Taken
by PureWaterLily
Summary: AU. The ring around Itachi's finger doesn't stop gleaming. Only Sasuke knows bitterly that this isn't revenge. This is justice. ItaSasu. SakuIta. That's the right order.
1. Chapter 1

Taken

Summary: The ring around Itachi's finger doesn't stop gleaming. Only Sasuke knows bitterly that this isn't revenge. This is justice. AU.

Pairings: ItaSasu. SakuIta. Misc.

A/N: When I'm serious, it turns cracky, when I try to be cracky, it gets serious. So I've stopped trying altogether. Also, in attempting to be more orthodox, I've crossed the pairing line... again. Sigh.

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><p>"<em>Do you know what it feels like to feign ignorance and silliness everyday? Dolling yourself up so you might just enter his peripheral once in a while? And waiting for years, holding onto his last words and sitting by the phone for hours with the smallest of hopes that it'll ring? Do you know what it feels like to ache day after day, and yet he refuses to make a move? If you do, then you should know why I did what I did."<em>

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><p>"Ah, sorry for being such a bother," she dramatically sighs, then gives me a large, cheery smile. "But thank you, the notes will help me a lot! You know, if you have free, how about I treat you to a cup of coffee or-"<p>

"Just scan them and return them to me next class," I abruptly cut in, closing my laptop. I quickly pack my belongings and file out of the lecture hall.

The smile on her face falters, but remains persistent. She skips alongside me in the hallway, spins so that she is directly in front and blocks my path. "Okay, next time then?" she chirps. "I heard the cafe came out with a new Choco Java-Twist-"

I easily navigate around her, push the main door open. I hear her footsteps follow me down the stairs, but they hesitantly stop midway when it becomes clear I'm not interested.

"Ah... s-see you then, Sasuke!" she calls out.

I don't bother to look back. When I am sure I am not being pursued, I slow down to a more leisurely pace across the campus.

I stare up at the New Haven sky, the usual grey with scattered rays here and there. The warmer spring air is billowing from the west, but the cold stillness of February remains, as does some remnants of dirty snow. It's an ideal time for a peaceful stroll; the weather isn't as biting cold, and the students are still crowded in dinner halls or common areas. Once March fully kicks in, so does the tents and picnics and horns, as well as the flood of people... the flood of _girls_ interrupting you every other step that reaching a class in a timely fashion is near impossible.

And years ago, I actually thought grad school would be any different. Life doesn't changed at all. It's always the same routine, regardless of school, state, even country. Wake up, morning lectures, girl x, lunch, evening lectures, girl y, studies, dinner, girl z, late studies, sleep. Maybe my high school and college schedules were a little less predictable than it is now, with an additional sport and dobe that chucks all order into a blender, but everything is still the same.

It takes only ten more minutes to reach my apartment. I swipe myself in.

"Oy, Sasuke!"

"Sasuke!"

"Good evening, Sasuke."

The usual three are nesting cozily inside my living room. No surprise there. Suigetsu is hogging his usual spot on the couch, tossing a football out of boredom. Karin scrambles off the office chair to me, arms wide, to which I evade. Juugo sets aside his daily newspaper and sends me the same benign smile he gives everyone.

Some days, I regret ever bothering with a roommate. When I first met Suigetsu in lectures, I saw an egotistical, flamboyant jerkass with sleek, heavily-gelled hair. Outrageous purple suit, Rolex watch, and checkered Converse shoes. Obnoxiously sipping a water bottle. And if all of that wasn't enough, he topped the day with a flavorful snarky remark – "Ah, look what the cat shitted out." Yet, I also had the pleasure of knowing he is a charismatic, manipulative bastard – quite like my father in many aspects, because before I knew it, he managed to convince me how economical it is to co-board. I corrected my mistake by kicking him out one week later, but the little weasel already made about eighty or so copies of the apartment card, and through time, I became acquainted with the other two currently loitering in my apartment.

"I'm sorry, Sasuke honey, but we'll have to kidnap you tonight!" Karin coos, grabbing my arm and tossing me to a nearby armchair.

I obviously make an error in assuming she'll stop that after she announced she's dating my _former_ roommate. I mentally note to not let my guard down next time, and push her off. However, she leaps and tackles me back down, straddling me.

She pats my chest. "Your impatience only turns me on, sugarstick."

"What is the meaning of this," I grumble, not in the mood for another episode of Karin's act.

"Hey, we knew you won't listen to us, so we gave Karin permission to do whatever to restrain you." Suigetsu has a pleased grin on his face. Seeing my annoyance trumps the fact that _his_ girlfriend is groping another man. Should I be flattered? Then again, only Suigetsu has such a messed up hierarchy. And messed up taste.

I shove Karin off again. "You have thirty seconds."

"The LGBT community is hosting their biannual movie night," Juugo calmly explains. "It would be great if you can attend."

"Not interested," I say, maneuvering away from the chair before Karin can pin me back down.

"But there's Hitch_cock_," Karin says suggestively, baring her teeth.

I return an unamused expression. Unlike two years ago, I've become immune to both her and her blatant euphemisms.

"We're also showing Wyler's _The Children's Hour _starring Audrey Hepburn," Juugo adds, equally adjusted to Karin's behavior.

"And free food!" Suigetsu laughs, catching the football and swaying himself upright. "Best. Pizza. Ever. Plus, Juugo's serving his famous fish chips too. That's what got me."

Juugo brightens at the compliment, then searches me for my answer.

If there is any reason to go, it may just be for Juugo's support; he's been a reliable companion through this hell. But I pulled two consecutive allnighters, and once I'm done with my thesis tonight, I'll want to turn in early. My mood will honestly foul with more people and noise.

"Maybe next time," I say. Before anyone can object, I escape into my room and lock the door. Thankfully, neither Suigetsu nor Karin has managed to obtain a copy of my room key. I also have the window barred with steel after I found Karin on top of me one night... even though I live on the fourteenth floor.

I close my eyes and rub my temples, exhaling a breath. At least I am alone now-

"I see someone hasn't changed," comes a chuckle, and my eyes immediate dart up towards my desk.

Maybe it's my absolute confidence I've secured my room to myself. Maybe I've just been caught at an exhausting time. Or maybe it's just the voice – deep, mesmerizing, _familiar. _Whichever one, I am frozen stiff.

The chair spins around, and I see him grinning at me. Elegant as always, head tilted, eyes amused, one leg crossed over the other. His fingers dangle my blackberry in the air. He tosses the cellphone to me; I numbly catch it without thinking.

"You should charge that once in a while," he says, getting up and waltzing over to me. "Or you wouldn't be as shocked as you are now..." A poke to my forehead. "... little brother."

And for a fraction of a second, this isn't _my_ room, but _his_, and I'm embarrassingly caught peeking in at the doorway once more. Only for a second.

So there _is_ something that has changed in my life.

Once I recover, I choke out, "Itachi? What the hell are you doing in the U.S.?"


	2. Chapter 2

Taken

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><p>"<em>Maybe he was wrong. But... this is still his <em>brother_. Are you positive? Are you sure this isn't... this isn't... for something else? Like... maybe..."_

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><p>"Do you know you have nine missed calls from one Naruto Uzumaki?" Itachi remarks, comfortably settling on my bed, folding one hand over the other. The barest of light from the shades hits the side of his face, revealing the familiar features of my elder brother, everything from the amusement in his eyes to the smirk on his lips.<p>

I'm not the only one who hasn't changed.

"I know the dobe is calling. That's why my phone's _off_," I hiss, dropping my backpack. "What are you doing here?"

I triple check the date in my head. It isn't my birthday, it isn't any holiday, and it isn't the end of the world. Just yet. "Shouldn't you be in London or Rome or wherever it is that's on the other side of the globe? Wait..." I temporarily stop my bitter train of words. "How did you get in?"

"To answer your questions in order: I'm obviously here to see you, little brother. I was in Munich, but decided a small vacation never hurts. Finally, I told the apartment lady my name is Sasuke Uchiha and politely asked for a spare card and key. It is very convenient that they print the exact floor and number on the card."

How Karin has not thought of _that_ is beyond me. I better close that loophole by the end of the week, or suffer dire consequences. "But- what- and so you just march right in for no reason?" I spit out.

"Of course not," Itachi says. "I do have a reason: I wanted to see you."

As appealing as those words sound, I am a second year law student. If there's anything I've learned, it's that when something sounds too good to be true, you better believe it's not. I yank my brother's sweater and stare into his eyes. "Alright, who died? Mom or Dad?"

He lowers his eyelids. "Neither," he enunciates. "I didn't come here to act as a messenger, Sasuke. How many times are you going to make me say _I came for you_."

I blink. Then suddenly let go of him, a flush creeping up my neck. I make a note to free myself from Karin before she completely pulls me down into the gutters with her.

So no one died, and Itachi is insistent that there isn't a gimmick this time. A bit of relief, a bit of indignation, and a lot of giddy that I am way too old to fall victim to again. No way. This is Itachi. There is always a catch.

"So you came to see me," I state, deadpan.

"Yes. How are you doing, Sasuke?"

I pull out my high school cue cards. "Fine," I say. Maybe then he'll tire of this game and tell me what the hell is going on. And if he doesn't, I'll just assume the pressure of being too goddamn perfect has finally gotten to him, and he's gone batshit crazy; there's no other explanation for why he's in my fucking bedroom.

"I am not our mother, Sasuke," Itachi sighs. "I deserve a little more than a monosyllable."

"Everything is fine." I extenuate out the five syllables, about to roll my eyes, but stop when I realize how childish that must look.

"Hm... let's see. 4.0. Rank one. Excellent case analysis. Interned at one of the largest law firms last summer and four job offers already. Also, I do believe the Legal Writing teacher has fallen for you. Did I miss anything?"

I automatically turn to my desk and notice the tidy pile of papers that _should_ be in dreadful disorder. _Somebody_ did some cleaning. Without _my_ permission.

I glare. Itachi smiles. "All of that deserves a little more than a 'fine,' Sasuke. And yet, you did not answer my question. How have you been fairing? Eating better, hopefully?"

"And here I thought you would know that too. Didn't have a chance to raid through my fridge yet?" I bite out sarcastically.

"I'm afraid not," Itachi concedes. "Your friends-"

A loud knock. "Oy, Sasuke, you okay? Did you snap or something, 'cause only crazies talk to themselves!"

"- showed up before I had the chance. They are rather... _interesting_ to listen to. Will you introduce me to them?" There is a playful twinkle in his eyes that I know spells trouble.

More pounding.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. I take for granted Itachi's soft, calm baritone and often forget my loud, abrasive voice – yet another thing I caught from that contagious dobe. "They. Are. Not. My. Friends." I clarify.

"Yes we are, sweetheart!" Karin calls from outside the door.

I cannot take this. Only Itachi has the power to break over a decade of routine and throw me completely off tracks. "That's it, out! Out! All of you!" I yell. "Not you—" I hiss, grabbing my brother's arm and tossing him back on the bed. "You're going to stay here and then tell me what the fuck is going on."

I stomp across my room, unbolt and open my door, and wave the Suigetsu and Karin away. I slam the bedroom door behind me.

"You got your food, your couch, now get the hell out of my apartment," I grit, grabbing the two by the wrist and dragging them out to the exit. Juugo casually follows.

"Oy, why were you all hysterics in your room earlier?" Suigetsu questions.

"None of your business!"

"Everything is my business! You know, if you need to see a shrink, I know someone _sensational_ who can give you a discount..."

"I'd rather be skinned alive first."

"Oh, she does fetishes too." Suigetsu grins, leaning at the doorway, and I feel an undying urge to introduce my palm to my forehead.

"Oh. My. God!" Karin shrieks, tugging free before I could throw her out. "Who are you?"

The other two turn around as well. Itachi, not helping with the situation, greets them with a wave. I am convinced his purpose in life is to make mine as complicated as possible.

Suigetsu whistles. "So _that's _why you wanna kick us out."

"Just _what_ are you insinuating," I dare, narrowing my eyes.

Suigetsu crosses the line, as usual. "I see Mr. Handsome locked up in your _bedroom_. What do you _think_ I'm insinuating?"

I slap the back of his head. Hard. Then I march over to Itachi and Karin to do some damage control.

"Hiii! I'm Karin," the redhead coos, batting her eyelashes. "Are you a friend of Sasuke's?"

"He's my brother," I grit, pulling her away before she can get her spidery hands on him, not that physical distance is going to stop her.

"_Brother_, huh. I didn't know _that_," Karin chuckles darkly, biting her thumb, her eyes hungrily scrutinizing my brother up and down. Her gaze freezes. Then, making a sour face, she turns her attention towards me and pouts. "Say, Sasuke," she whines. "How come you never tell us these things?"

"Because he's four thousand miles away, and when he _does_ visit every decade or so, he brings another jar of dust with him," I snarl, shooting another bullet towards my useless brother.

"_Et_ _des gateaux au chocolat_," Itachi adds, not the bit fazed.

"That I hate," I snap.

"True," he shamelessly admits. "But they are quite delicious."

"Aunt Uruchi was the better souvenir."

I would have tossed out a few more pieces of my mind at him had Juugo not interrupted. "Ah, if I may, where you are from, Sasuke's brother?" Juugo politely questions. "I'm afraid I don't recall Sasuke ever mentioning you, either."

"I wouldn't blame him if he hasn't told anyone," Itachi replies, nodding his head in concession. "We haven't met in person for quite a while now. The past three years, I've been caught up with some business in Munich. I only landed in Stamford this morning."

Juugo doesn't conceal his surprise. "You flew in from _Germany_? What for?"

Here, Itachi directs one of his guilty-tripping faces towards me; he can't expect me to be affected by that old trick. "Well, I came here to spend time with my darling little brother..."

That's when Juugo suggests the most brilliant idea ever. "If that's the case, we'll leave you two alone-"

Unfortunately, even when Fate throws me a bone, my brother has to catch it and chuck it aside. "No, it would be improper of me to cut into Sasuke's quality time with his friends-"

"They are not my friends."

"- besides, it seems he's in another of his 'fine' moods."

"Actually, Sasuke isn't too tolerant of us today either," Juugo states warily, eying me with concern, before returning to my brother. "We tried to invite him to the LGBT movie marathon, but he says he's busy."

"LGBT?"

"Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender," Juugo explains, scratching the back of his neck, and here is where Suigetsu flips in to make his grandeur introduction.

"Welcome, monsieur," Suigetsu dramatically announces, bowing deeply, "to the Gay Ivy. Limited time offer. Flamingo pink boas and glitter not necessarily included."

Itachi merely blinks. "Interesting," he muses. "Is this an open event?"

"Wait, what?" I ask, baffled.

"Of course!" Juugo says, beaming. "Free admission and food, too. Would you like to attend?"

Karin pounces in. "Ooh, you _should_. And I'd _love_ to give a tour of the campus."

"A tour and movie sound lovely."

"Wait, you're _leaving_?" I demand.

Itachi is already at the doorway. "You are obviously tired, Sasuke. We'll talk the morrow."

"What!"

"Good night, Sasuke."

The others are surprisingly adaptable to this new change in plans and accompany him.

"So, I'm Juugo. This is Karin and Suigetsu..."

"Nice to meet you..."

The door closes. My eye twitches. Have I been... _ditched_?

I pick up the football from the floor of my living room, which by the way, is an utter mess, courtesy of the trio. And suddenly, I am in the mood for nailing something hard.

That is, until the door opens again. I look up, stunned, my breath trapped in my throat.

"Oy, sorry dude, can I get that back?"

I smirk when the football smashes square in Suigetsu's face. I stalk back to my room, telling myself I have no time for idiotic movies.

Fifty minutes of staring at a blinking cursor later, I give up trying to write my thesis and turn in, angrily slamming a pillow over my head.


	3. Chapter 3

Taken

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><p>"<em>Jealousy? How idiotic. In order to evoke jealousy, the object in question must be of value to that person. I am nothing to him<em>."

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><p>"Sasuke! There you are!"<p>

I automatically alter my path. I don't have time to deal with this. Four papers, one conference, two mock trials. And I answered a question wrong in class – an easy one at that. The knowledge that Itachi's lurking somewhere around campus is screwing me over big time.

"Hey, Sasuke!" Unfortunately, I realize this girl is one of the more pushier ones, with absolutely no idea of the concept of personal space. She double pokes me from behind.

"Yes?" I wearily answer. Evading her isn't an option – she's a former champion of the track team, as well as a karate black belt and an extreme Princeton tap dancer on top of whatever else she has the pleasure of informing for the past four months.

"Listen, a group of us are hitting it downtown Friday night..."

"I'm busy."

"Aw, well Saturday night, we've got-" Her six inch heels stop clicking behind me. It is _not_ a miracle. "What the... Who's he?"

I take that as my cue to escape. Only, I stop in my tracks as well, when I catch who's at the picnic tables, eating lunch with a cluster of what appears to be a mix of grad and undergraduate girls. And I recognize most of... actually... I recognize _all _of them. Oh hell.

"... and at three, our mother threw out the soiled rubber duck, and he cried for a week straight. He was loud enough to alert the neighbors. So our father, thinking big as usual, checked out an entire fifty story hotel in Guangzhou and sent him there, not that it helped the bawling..."

"Ahem." I place a claw on my brother's shoulder, drumming my fingers.

"Ah! Sasuke," Itachi greets. "Would you like an omusubi? Courtesy of the wonderful Japanese Culture club."

The girls are giggling, much to my chagrin. Not to mention the unpleasant tumult in my stomach when I see the way they shyly lean in and lower their eyelids, their predatory line of sight _not_ necessarily focused on me this time.

Itachi feigns ignorance and enjoys the attention. I hate this about him. Instead of steering clear of trouble, he always leaps right into the den of lions, dons on a circus master hat, and makes a mockery of the whole act, scratching their underchins as if they were a litter of kitten.

"No?" he lightheartedly responds to my threatening silence. "Well, the Argentina Alliance brought-"

I must have been assigned the new duty of dragging people around and haven't been aware of it. I ignore the girls' whines. I ignore the turned heads across the courtyards.

When we reach a less populated area of the campus, directly under a bare oak tree, I push Itachi against it. "Explanation. Now."

Itachi flickers back his ponytail.

"Your mood hasn't lightened, Sasuke. Have you eaten breakfast yet?" he innocently inquires, patting the sleeve of his sweater. "Or lunch?"

I want to yank my hair out. Is he purposely messing with me? Stupid question. Of course he is. But I've learned that the length of time that Itachi avoids telling me something is directly proportional to the how horrible that something is. And if it isn't our poor mother or father committing suicide yet – they are on premium health insurance with eight genius doctors that can resuscitate the dead waiting on them – then I can't even imagine what it possibly is.

My mind is racking for answers that Itachi always hide behind that mysterious smile. I search him for any indication of what it may be... death of a relative, national disaster, bankruptcy, divorce...

Itachi brushes aside his bangs. A silver band gleams on his finger.

And suddenly, my mind draws a blank.

"Sasuke?"

My eyes become fixated on the ring. That couldn't possibly be a...

What a ludicrous idea, I mentally slap myself. It isn't as if Itachi is unaccustomed to jewelry.

"You know what, no, no I haven't," I say, exhausted.

"Proper nutrition is important," Itachi admonishes. "Thankfully, your knowledgeable lady friends have recommended me many excellent cafes."

"Itachi..."

"What of Au Bon Pain?" he suggests.

"What?"

"Au Bon Pain. According to them, it's a very popular bakery cafe located at-"

"I know what Au Bon Pain is!" I exclaim. "Girls ask me on a daily basis to go to the lousy Au Bon Pain, which apparently started selling hazelnut chai tea lattes last month but cut back on the bacon! My 'what' is solely reserved for expressing my disbelief that my busier-than-life multimillionaire CEO of a brother flew in from Germany to have some low brand cheesy coffee and bagel with me, and possibly with some dainty side conversations of the weather. Not to mention I'm cutting class for it!" I breathe madly, letting the remaining fumes steam out.

Though startled by my outburst, Itachi quickly recovers. He gives me a soft smile. "The girls will be glad to know you do listen to them. But it doesn't hurt to take up their offers once in a while."

I can't respond to that in any manner except, "Bah!" follow by a shove and stomp. "It'll only encourage them!"

My brother breezily keeps up with my pace, nods his head in my direction. "And what is wrong with that? I noticed you still don't have a girlfriend."

"So what?" I snap.

The smile vanishes. "Sasuke, you are twenty three, you are extraordinarily handsome, and you have had a total of one girlfriend. Whom I've heard you weren't the kindest to."

I wince at his disapproving tone. "Itachi, if you haven't noticed, I'm a tad too busy for relationships. Unlike you, Mr. Perfect, I can't attend five conferences, fly across ten states borders, finish all my research papers, and return before evening to frolic with eight different pretty girls!"

"True, true. But I do have to admit yours are much prettier and devoted," Itachi teases. "Plus, all of the girls here have spirit. Three judo masters, four promising Nobel prize winners, two established authors, eight who saved entire providences, one with all of the above. Oh, and eighteen with, ahem, 'long pretty black hair like mommy's!'"

I cast a death glare. "That phrase will not leave your mouth for the remainder of your stay."

"All I'm saying is that perhaps you should only go to _four_ conferences, fly across _nine_ state borders, leave the research papers to the research _partners_ that I know you have, and return before evening to enjoy a wonderful cup of Java-Twist with any girl of your choosing."

We reach a busy intersection at the edge of campus. I let few final cars pass before crossing the street; Itachi docilely tags along.

"I don't have time for stupid dates," I grumble, as I pull the large glass door of the blasted Au Bon Pain. "Just be glad that I agreed to _you _at all. Don't push it."

He chuckles, then holds open the second door for me. "Then I guess I should be flattered, _mio caro_."


	4. Chapter 4

Taken

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><p>"<em>Instead, have you thought that maybe I'm doing this out of love. He's talented and passionate, charming and considerate. He truly makes you feel like the most beautiful person in the world.<em>"

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><p>"It's covered in grease," I mutter, letting the sandwich fall back down the plate with a mushy flop.<p>

"And you have lost several pounds this winter. How many times will you faint before you concede that one cannot survive purely on vitamin pills," Itachi sighs, wrapping his hands around a cup of tea.

A gleam. My attention momentarily darts to the ring again, and the uncomfortable feeling returns. I opt to ignore it.

"Another dozen or so," I huff, uncapping my tomato basil soup. I refuse to eat that disgusting soppy mess of a sandwich.

"Last night, I've also gotten reports from your friends that you've been pulling many allnighters." He gives me his worried, reproachful expression, that I've become immune to. "Sasuke, this isn't healthy."

"Thank you for your concern, mother," I say, then biting down on my spoonful on soup. I grimace. Too salty, and even worse, it's slightly sweet. I acknowledge that food companies are placing high fructose corn syrup in everything nowadays, but this is getting ridiculous.

I wrinkle my nose. Why did I agree to this again? The food is horrible, the looping pop music in the background is distasteful, and the cafe is full of couples trying to suck each other's faces off. Furthermore, the tables are all dingy and outrageously small that I feel like I'm trapped in one of those nightmarish tea parties. Everything is an eyesore.

Okay, maybe not _everything_, but close to it. I turn my attention back to my brother. "What else did my so-called 'friends' tell you about me?"

Itachi delicately rests his head on a hand. "That you excel at everything except have a social life. And that their endearing nickname for you is Mr. Grumpypants. We also conversed of a few things such as Suigetsu's samurai blade collection, Karin's talent for distinguishing perfumes, and Juugo's birdwatching hobby. They were all quite nice and entertaining throughout the night."

"Wait, Karin didn't try to rape you?"

"Is a rape a new American slang now? Miss Karin behaved rather lady-like and displayed her excellent skill of mapping and navigation during the tour."

I cannot believe what I am hearing. Karin? Lady-like? Either my brother needs glasses or I need a hearing aid. Then again, he doesn't seem to suffering from any of the symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder.

"No groping?"

"No."

"Dirty talk?"

"None that I was aware of."

"Pinching, slapping, nibbling, air-humping?"

"You make your friend sound like an animal, Sasuke."

"Because she is." Then, I promptly add, "And she's not my friend."

Itachi delivers one of his _sure_ smiles as he pops off the lid of his own aegean whatever-exotic pasta salad that looks like they just tossed whatever is leftover in the kitchen.

"Tomato?" he offers, poking a fork with a bright red grape tomato in my direction, and I temporarily go cross-eyed. On instinct, I swat his hand away. The fork skids across the cafe and the tomato bounces off somewhere in the corner.

After casting a quick glance around the cafe, I hiss. "What the fuck, Itachi."

I am talking to an empty chair.

"Pardon," I hear him from across the room, picking up the fork. He walks back to me, humming, tossing the bruised grape tomato in his other palm. When he returns, he slides back out his chair and gently plops the tomato on a napkin.

"Ah, and I was so convinced your food preferences haven't changed. Do you have a new favorite food now, Sasuke?"

"No. Do you have a new hobby now? Is it giving a hoot?" I challenge, snatching my spoon again and madly stirring my soup.

A smile. "Perhaps."

I stir harder. "Look, I don't know what kind of game you're playing..."

"I'm not playing any games," he simply states.

"... but you can't expect me to believe that after two whole decades of endless international flights, nonstop revolutions, and construction of the greatest empire of the century, all while raking in an unfathomable amount of money that you just donate to who-knows-what charities, you actually have nothing better to do than some old fashion brotherly bonding in a dingy Au Bon Pain." Tomato bits are spewing everywhere.

"If I had a choice, you would have always been first," he answers smoothly, lowering his eyelids.

My hands stop. I am sputtering. "Oxford and Cambridge fought over who can have you as their philosophy professor. The French wanted you as their Prime Minister, and you don't even have French citizenship!"

"The British and French are always silly like that," Itachi says lightheartedly.

"You would have won the Nobel Peace Prize, and no one knows it because you handed the credit to someone else!"

"It was his theory; I only made it work. Besides, I would have missed your eleventh birthday."

"You're... you're crazy!" Mental note: insanity is also contagious.

And then, he screws me over once more with this statement: "Sasuke, as much as I love directing boards, teaching graduates, engaging in politics, or unwinding theories on my free time, have you thought that maybe I would just like to spend a week with you?" That one takes more than a second to fully recover from, and I am positive by now that I have been whisked away to an alternative dimension without my knowing.

"Yes, I have," I bitterly say, "but that's irrational. What about the company?"

Itachi looks as if he's been expecting this question. "Someone else is managing it quite well."

"Who? _Shisui_?"

He chuckles, unfolding several napkins. "I said, _well_. Shisui is on a cruise in the Caribbeans, playing ninja-pirates for a film. Currently in charge is a recent Harvard graduate. Very charismatic, assertive, and innovative. Incredibly strong. Also one of the most brilliant people I've met." Judging from his sincere tone, he isn't exaggerating this time. Which means there's actually a chance the person he left in charge _won't_ be kidnapped by the Yakuza or threatened to be nuked by North Korea.

When Itachi finishes wiping the tomato splatters all over the table, he sets the napkins aside and looks straight into my eyes. "Now, Sasuke, will you suspend your disbelief for just this one week, and enjoy my companionship? Or shall I try again the next decade?"

I stare back, before averting my gaze.

"'Your companionship' isn't gold, Itachi," I snort. What an arrogant ass.

"According to you, the U.K. and France would beg the differ."

"Shut up." I clamp my mouth over another spoonful of soup. So this soup isn't _that _intolerable. I swallow. Then, "But I do have another mock trial this evening, and if you want..."

"I would love to come."

"Oh yay." And maybe that sentiment isn't completely sarcastic this time.


	5. Chapter 5

Taken

* * *

><p>"<em>In fact, I was shocked that he remained single for this long. It's impossible for someone like him to not attract attention.<em>"

* * *

><p>"<em>Daaang<em>, Sasuke. That was total motherfuckin' _nuclear annihilation _back there. The other team didn't even get a change to _react_." Suigetsu whistles, patting me on the back.

I smirk, adjusting the cuff of my sleeve. I have been on an excellent streak since yesterday, so much that towards the end of tonight, one of the tougher opponents actually yelped and dashed away. That left the remaining challenge, a sharp, witty girl with a thing for exploiting semantics, to fend for herself. Eventually, she too was left speechless. The pleasure of seeing her bitchy mouth snap shut and yield after a _year _of her insubstantial nitpicking is indescribable. Past her, the others had nothing – one didn't even do the proper research – and their closing arguments were moot.

To make it all the sweeter, the attorney evaluators this time hail from prestigious firms. Even Orochimaru, litigation legend, was watching with burning intensity, practically bathed in a sheet of cold sweat.

Life is good.

"Sassuuukeee!"

Almost good.

"Karin," I sigh, as I feel her weight suddenly collide into my back.

"You. Were. AWESOME!" she gives a ear-bleeding squeal, squeezing me with all her might, one leg propped up. "Forget waterboy, let's do it now!"

"Oy," complains said water boy, cleaning his ears.

"Oh poo-bear, you looked sexy too, wiggling your eyebrows and sipping your water and all," Karin snorts, before rubbing her cheek against my back. "Just not as sexy when Sasu-honey made that whore cry in utter despair."

"Alright, enough," Suigetsu commands, curling a finger, "or else, _I'll_ make _you _cry in utter despair tonight."

"MeOW," Karin purrs, jumping back to under her boyfriend's arms.

Taking that as an opportunity to slip away, I grab my suitcase and try my best to not run-hop-skip towards the entrance way of the courtroom, pushing anyone and everyone out of the way. Instead I compose myself into a dignified figure, straightening my tie.

"Well?" I question, upholding my nonchalant poker face.

Itachi pushes himself off the wall and uncrosses his arms. As he struts over, he delivers three claps.

"Remind me..." he begins, "to murder that bigot uncle of ours who said you would only make it in Estates or Copyright."

I find my lips twitching and stretching into a wide grin. "Murder is a rather heinous crime, Itachi."

"I'm sure I'm safe if you're defending me."

"I don't know, Itachi," I say breezily, "I'm also sure your ass is absolutely _fucked _if I'm prosecuting you."

"Dutily noted," he chuckles.

"Sasuke! Itachi!"

Shuffling in from the main door is Juugo. He waves and weaves his way through the bustling crowd. Since he generally watches my matches, I've been expecting him sooner or later; it's the person accompanying him that surprises me.

Kimimaro, third year law student, rank one of his year, and current boyfriend of Juugo. He made national news in the Fall court case, and the last time I checked, these trials are far beneath him.

"That was an incredible match, Sasuke!" Juugo compliments, breathing hard. "A quarter of the student body started peeking in through the windows just to catch a glimpse of it!"

Kimimaro merely pockets a hand, carrying the same cold, plaintive expression that matches the bone white suit he always dons on. But today, there is a slight flicker of interest in his eyes. "Commendable performance," he briefly acknowledges me, icily and composed.

Hearing that from the senior star who considers ninety-four percent of the Yale law students 'useless trash,' I must have been commendable indeed.

"Harvard must be feeling the bloody stab of betrayal, to have their former undergrad _destroy_ them so," Juugo laughs in a malicious whisper, before reverting back to his gentle, mild self. "We should celebrate."

Since I already have some plans with my brother in mind, I am about to interject.

But Itachi beats me to it. "What do you have in mind, Juugo?" he inquires, placing a hand on my shoulder. I close my mouth.

"Well, every other Friday night, the students here infiltrate this downtown nightclub..."

"I don't dance," I say bluntly.

"They serve interesting cocktails..."

"I don't drink."

"The spot is also infamous for drug dealing," Kimimaro adds in monotone. "If you are absolutely repulsed by such scum, then nightclubs are right for you. It's full of chauvinists who crowd around tables to complain about the harmful effects and drugs and alcohol while mocking how preposterous the people on the dance floor look."

"Sounds perfect," Itachi says, looking at me for my approval. "Unless you have other ideas, Sasuke?"

"I... No."

"Wonderful! Let's get Suigetsu and Karin too. They love this stuff," Juugo says, scanning the emptying room for the couple. Consequently, he has the misfortune of seeing one their notorious make out sessions, with Suigetsu's hand clutching a fistful of her hair, and her black stocking leg wrapped around him. All on the proctor's table.

Exasperated, Juugo looks away and calls, "Suigetsu! Karin!"

"WHAT!" come the irritated cries.

"Nightclub!"

"WHAT?"

"CLUB."

A pause. Then, "SURE!" One final bite at each other later, Suigetsu runs his fingers over his hair and Karin straightens her blazer.

"Nightclub, huh," purrs Karin, as she nudges up her glasses. "We're down. Should I even ask if _you're_ attending, Sasu-buns?"

I don't feel the need to grace her with an answer. I seize my belongings and exit the near-empty courtroom.

"My god! So you are!" she shrieks in delight. "You _are_ in a good mood today!"

Upon exiting the hall, I hear her swaying over to my brother. "And Itachi, shall I assume you're going too?"

"This should be fun," is his light reply.

"You've clubbed before in Europe?"

I snort. Itachi. He's been attending balls since he was four. He dined in renowned restaurants with daughters of wealthy corporate lawyers, and practically grew up on Chateaux. As if I can ever imagine him going to these low grades of entertainment-

"I spent a few nights in Belgrade with female companions before. Does that count?"

Karin and I both freeze. I turn back to see Karin's eyes wide and mesmerized. "Serbia?"

"Yes."

Mesmerized jumps to zealous worship. "Oh. My. _GOD_. Oh yeah," she says, fanning herself, "that _counts_."

"What about you, Sasuke?" Itachi asks, catching me off guard. "Surely this is not _your_ first experience."

Flashbacks goes to college, with one drunken tai chi master dealing much property damage, one flamboyant dobe failing miserably to woo any girls, one blonde giving you a very painful bitch slap, and one girlfriend dumping nine cherry lemon margaritas on your head.

"No, it's not," I grumble.


	6. Chapter 6

Taken

* * *

><p>"<em>But then I realized why. It's the same game all over again. The board is already set, the queen is already exposed, and every last girl has longed surrendered, waiting to for his final move<em>."

* * *

><p>"<em>Sasuke<em>?" The familiar cry rises above the pumping music of crowded club. Before I realize it, the Princeton dancer girl twirls around and grabs my shoulder.

"Sasuke!" she says, setting down her drink and descending down her barstool. Her heels makes cold contact with the floor. "I thought you were busy tonight- Oh!" She sees my brother, and her eyes instantly light up.

Flashing her brightest smile, she extends her hand. "My, we have not met. Are you by any chance Itachi Uchiha?"

"How did you know?" Itachi returns her handshake.

"Smaller campus than most people think," she winks, then waltzes to his side, displaying for him a glimmer of her attention-seeking orange dress. "A little bit of research also never hurts."

"No it doesn't," Itachi replies, grinning. "And may I ask what you have learned?"

She places a finger on her lips, and leans towards him in a flirty manner. "Your secret's safe with me _Mr. CEO. _Of course, only if you treat me to a dance."

"Are girls suppose to be this sly?" Itachi questions, amused.

She giggles, releases the ribbons typing up her hair, and tosses her curls back, hands at her hips. "Don't get me wrong, Mr. CEO. I may be a bulldog now, but I am still a Princeton tiger at heart. I know what I want."

"I don't know if I can deny such insistence, Sasuke," Itachi tells me. "May I?"

A little baffled, I give a numb nod. Before I know it, the girl has dragged my brother to the dance floor with her. The silence thereafter isn't long though, as I hear my name called again.

"Eh? Sasuke, is that really you?"

I turn around and see a girl wiping a glass from behind the bar counter. She sets the glass down, and leans in, resting her head on a fist. "Hey, it _is_ you! From that stupefied expression you're giving me, you don't recognize me, do ya?"

I furrow my eyebrows. Taking the bait, I approach the counter. I take the seat of the Princeton girl and examine the features of the bartender. Her high, optimistic voice registers in my mind. But if she is one of the many girls I have the misfortune of interacting with on a daily basis, it's unusual for me to forget her face.

She lets out an exaggerated sigh. "I can't expect the oh-so-popular Sasuke to remember me... so... let's try... this!" With her fingers, she draws two boxes around her eyes. "Or, maybe this." She then proceeds to air-braid her hair.

Glasses and braids, that narrows the pool down to twenty.

When I make no reply, she throws her arms in the air and tries a whole different approach. Rolling up her sleeves of her uniform, she clears her throat. "Sorry to bother you, sir, but would you like, perhaps, a _Choco Java-Twist_?"

"You borrowed my notes," I affirm.

"Bingo!" she laughs, spreading out her arms wide. "So there is hope after all!"

I don't understand the reason for her cheeriness, nor do I exactly care. But in this suffocating place of headache-inducing noise and spinning neon colored lights and perfume, I figure asking her for a drink isn't the worst idea. "What drinks do you have."

"I'm glad you asked! How about I treat you to that drink I promised earlier?" she proposes. "Whatever you want, it's on me!"

"Anything is fine," I dismiss. I just need alcohol in my system.

The notes girl clears the last drink on the counter. "Anything, eh?" she says, glancing up at the variety of beverages and mixtures behind her. "Well, I learned you ain't a fan of sweets... silly me, should have realized that before I asked you to the cafe. How about I make it up to you with a premium?"

Humming, she whisks off to mix the drink. That is when there is a shy tap to my shoulder. I turn to my right, and see a long haired brunette in a blue dress settle down on the neighboring barstool.

"Hello, Sasuke," she greets sweetly, tucking her purse on her lap.

Unfortunately, I haven't the faintest recollection of this girl.

Catching onto my confusion, she sends a small smile. "You probably do not know me. My name is Hinata Hyuuga. I study immunobiology in Arts and Sciences."

"How may I help you?" I question.

She opens her mouth, then averts her gaze and blushes. "Ah, you see... your brother invited me here tonight. He said you were interested in my company...?"

"Did he now." I snap my head to the dance floor and catch a glimpse of Itachi and his latest dance partner. The Princeton girl is still there, as is a dozen or so other girls crowding around him, all swaying and shaking to the beat. Seemingly innocent enough.

"Um, y-yes. He was quite... convincing, and he was very persistent on my meeting you... I... did I make a mistake?"

The multicolored lights flashes; the mass of people shifts, and I lose them. "No," I say, returning to the girl in blue. "I'm sorry, Ms. Hyuuga. My brother did."

Hinata's eyes widen, her expression crestfallen. "O-oh... I- I'm sorry!" she squeaks, and becomes all too eager to leave the bar stool and flee. She manages one feet or so before she collides with someone.

"Hey babe, wanna dance?"

"Oh!"

A glass hits the counter. "Ouch."

I look up to see the bartender shake her her head in disapproval. "You let _that _go? Have you lost your noodles?" she asks, knocking her skull.

I bring the drink to my lips. "I'm not interested."

"Not interested!" the bartender exclaims. "That's _the _Hinata Hyuuga! She made groundbreaking research in medicine, published bestsellers, and saved at least thousands of poor children in Ghana. Her name is all over Time's watchlist, and I heard she's an insane judo master and ballet dancer. Fucking hot to boot!"

"Is that so," I say, deadpanned.

The bartender is not amused. "Do you know how impossibly rare it is to see her out? _I _would jump at the opportunity. Treat her real good too."

"I'm not interested," I repeat myself.

The bartender intrudes into my space. "_How_?" she demands. "It's impossible to score any better than that. Who, just who_,_ can possibly top her? Just who is good enough for Mr. Sasuke Uchiha?"

I say nothing, only swirl the drink and take another swig. Noting my silence, she huffs and returns to cleaning glasses. "Sometimes, I swear you are asexual, Sasuke."

"Are you always this intrusive?" I ask, casting her a chilly glare. I don't recall her ever being this bold before.

As suspected, she is unaffected. "No, no I'm not," she airily admits, rubbing her nose. "I've had a few drinks. I'm sure I'll hit myself on the dry wall in the morning, but I need some intoxication to deal with idiot-heads like you. No offense."

"Hn." I drain the rest of my drink; she replaces it without thought.

She watches at me some more, before resigning, "But hey, at least you're here. I can't complain."

I take a deep gulp of my next glass. "Why do you even bother with me," I mumble. It isn't meant to be a question, but she answers anyways.

"Well... personality aside, you're smart, talented, and good-looking. I'd be stupid to throw in the towel just yet," the bartender laughs. "Most importantly..." She sobers up momentarily. "Most importantly, you haven't said yes to anyone else. Nor have you said no to me, and that's enough hope to cling onto, y'know?"

"That's it? How stupid."

She swipes my third glass and replace it with a fourth. "Meh, if you're a girl, you might just understand. To watch him go again and again, but as long as there's some hope, you'll forgive him every time and keep trying. Just wait for that day he finally makes up his mind and makes a move." She sighs, stares at me with a forlorn look.

"How many drinks have you had?" I question.

She snaps back to shape. "Less than you now," she informs me with a pleased smile, snatching the empty glass in my hands. "Might wanna dance some of that off-"

"Sasuke!" As if on cue, a giddy Karin, skips over to me, dressed in a skimpy, stringy what-ever-it-is that must be illegal in at least twenty states. "Have you been sitting here this entire time, grumpypants? Wait, _six _glasses?"

The bartender gives a toothy grin. "I can tell he's also a light drinker."

"Ooh-la-la, let's dance, sugarstick!" It's here my _oh crap _radar finally activates, just a few buttons shy of having my _I'm fucked ain't I _alarm blaring.

Against my protest, Karin has already dragged me over to the dance floor.

"See ya, Sasuke! I'm always here if you need me!"


	7. Chapter 7

Taken

* * *

><p>"<em>The capture. The move he will never play.<em>"

* * *

><p>"A bit too much to drink, Sasuke?"<p>

I look up to see Itachi holding me upright, keeping me from tipping over, as he reaches for a pillow.

"Might have overdone it," I grumble, pressing my head into his chest. Multicolored lights dot my vision. My ears are still buzzing. "Where am I, and tell me if I'm within a mile vicinity of Karin." The very name itself causes me to cringe. No more spinning, shoving, stomping, fondling, and _shaking_. Definitely no more shaking, or whatever that jerky vibrating movement it is she makes!

"Miss Karin is currently back in your apartment with Suigetsu," Itachi informs me, gingerly patting the back of my head. "I brought you to my hotel. It'll be much more peaceful here."

"They're alone in my apartm- remind me to burn my couch later," I moan, eliciting a chuckle from my brother. I feel his breath, but definitely smell _mine_, a mixture of lime and nail polish, which my brain faintly registers as the result of an overdose of whatever that chick was serving me.

Itachi rests me against the headboard and returns to the bed with a glass of water. I jerk my head to the side in childish denial, and get an unpleasant drumming in my skull as consequence. He tries again, gently inching the water in my direction. The sight of the glass makes me nauseous.

"Sasuke, it's easy to tell you're inexperienced with alcohol," Itachi sighs. "Drinking water will ease the headache tomorrow." He says it like I don't have a headache _now._

"If you care so much, fetch me an aspirin and go away!" I growl, annoyed by my own voice. It's too loud. It's too rude. I don't want to talk. I don't want to hear myself. I just want to sleep already.

"If I could care less, I might just," he murmurs, giving me a fatigued smile. "But I figured it would be unpleasant for both of us to hear your groaning in the morning."

Begrudgingly, I take the glass and drink. Itachi is quick to refill. Three glasses down, I'm scrambling out of bed for the bathroom.

I slam the door behind me. Headache still not going away.

A few minutes later, Itachi knocks.

"What," I bark, splashing my face with cold water to wake me out of this hellish daze.

My brother enters with a bundle of folded towels, a change of clothes, and a toothbrush set. "It's been a long night. Why don't you shower first."

What am I? Five? I am on the verge of telling him off, that I'm returning to my apartment, when I remember who's currently occupying it. Maybe not the best of ideas, lest I want to be accidentally bound to a threesome.

"Fine," I grumble, snatching the items.

The quality of the bathroom is far better than those of my apartment anyways, with clean chromium and glass and an endless supply of hot water that I'm taking full advantage of. But that's about it, and I'm surprised at how modest everything is. A plain single room instead of a suite. A shower stall opposed to a hot tub. I expect something much more... _grandeur_... from my brother.

Still, the shower does therapy miracles on my body. The heaviness of my head is purged with the mist, and the heat unravels weeks of tension in my muscles and nerves. After messily drying my hair with a towel, I fold it and drape it over my shoulder, feeling much more relaxed.

"... I understand... that is fine... yes, I will tell him."

I step out of the bathroom.

"Ah, okay... wonderful. Until then." One click later, Itachi looks up at me. "Feeling better, Sasuke?"

"Yeah," I say, noting the tray besides Itachi on the bed, then the cell in his hand. "Business call?"

"No," Itachi says. "That was for you."

"Me?" I recognize my blackberry. "_You answered my phone_?"

"Yes, you were still in the shower when it rang," he says, handing me my cell. I snatch it out of his grip. "Sakura called."

I blink, and my mind goes into rewind.

Sakura? I haven't seen her since our college graduation, when she left the U.S. for a job offer in... was it Moscow? A year prior, our relationship came to a standstill, and breakup was inevitable. It was mutual, and, much to everyone's surprise, drama-less. Then came period of silence, politeness, and an half-hearted attempt to recover parts of our friendship. The final time I saw her, we departed on a quiet note.

"Why did she call?" I ask, a little confused. The listed number is undeniably hers. While Naruto continues to spam me with birthday presents and holiday cards, phone calls and emails, I haven't heard of any word from Sakura until now.

"She will be visiting shortly," Itachi informs me.

I knit my eyebrows. "She's coming to New Haven? Why?"

"Perhaps you should call back and ask her yourself," Itachi says, getting up from the bed. "Eleven missed calls from Mr. Uzumaki, one from her. Just because you're all separated now doesn't mean you should cut your bonds with them, Sasuke," he chides softly, placing a hand on my shoulder.

I make no comment. Instead, I place on an disagreeing expression and fiddle with my phone, scrolling through the call log and texts.

Itachi leaves for the bathroom. At the doorway, he tells me, "And Sasuke, food will help ease any discomforts in your stomach. When you're done, just set it aside and get some sleep."

The door closes. Rolling my eyes, I finish checking my log and decides I can put off all the calls until later. Meanwhile, I debate what to do with the tray. There isn't much on it besides two slices of wheat bread, one neatly peeled and sliced apple, and another glass of water.

I settle down on the bed, hesitant of what to do with it.

My mother stopped giving my those on sick days since primary school. The only other time this has happened was seven years ago, when my mother bitterly flew off to Austria, my father went into an abusive rage, and Itachi barged into the kitchen and held my hand just before my fingers could touch the handle of a French knife. I slammed a door in his face and locked myself in my room for seventy-two hours; he left a tray outside my door for every meal I refused to eat.

I unlocked my room on the fourth night and saw he was still waiting for me, sitting so casually on our father's armchair, directly under the lousy, overly ornamented Christmas tree. Another plate of meticulously prepared meal resting on the coffee table. A packet of paper in his hands.

"_Harvard is still waiting, Sasuke. Now, you can fill this application, or you can consign that right to me. I do have many fabulous tales of when you were five, especially of that one beach trip...-_"

"_Fucking stop it! Stop it! It's over! I don't need some fucking crapsack college!_"

Itachi only smiled, waltzed before me, and poked my forehead. "_Foolish little brother... when will you realize you will never need Harvard. Harvard needs you. How can the number one educational institution in the world call itself number one when you don't even apply_..."

The water dimly runs in the distance.

I clutch my head. I'm never used to being taken care of, _hate _it in fact, and an unidentifiable, unnerving feeling settles in.

"Tch." I carelessly plop the tray on the nightstand and turn off the lights. I pull over the covers.

Itachi is never there when I want him, only when I need him. I don't need him now, so why in the world is he here. I've been so caught up on having him here, I've forgotten to ask myself that.

Why Itachi, my brother, the man who finished elementary school by 7, published his first thesis by 8, completed high school by 10, gained his first ph.D by 13, and saved the world more than once by 21, is currently here in this dingy city, doing the most trivial of tasks for me when I don't need him to.

A sigh. A tender kiss directly under my browbone.

"Sleep well, _otouto_."

No, I haven't forgotten; I've stopped caring.


	8. Chapter 8

Taken

* * *

><p>"<em>So I wondered what would happen if instead of aiming to lose, I aimed to win.<em>"

* * *

><p>Sasuke-!/

"Sakura- YOU FUCKING CHEATER!"

I lean over the table, but Itachi holds his hand out of my reach. He glances down at my cards, grins, then tosses them back to me. "A bluff afterall."

/Sasuke?/

I huff, smack my hand on the table, and defiantly turn away from my brother. No need to be caught in his petty gimmicks.

"Sorry," I blandly apologize into the phone. "That was for my _lying, cheating, sore loser _of a brother."

He lowers his eyelids, one hand tapping his own cards on the table. "The point of the game is to cheat and lie, Sasuke. Though I don't recall ever losing."

"Oh shut up!"

There is a snicker from the phone. /Enjoying your time with Itachi?/ Sakura says. /That's good to hear./

"He flew in a few days ago," I grumble, leaning back in my chair. "Now I learn you're coming."

I await her explanation. A pause from her end of the line.

Then, /Yeah,/ she cheerily states. /A lot has happened in Munich, and I bet you're excelling at Yale. We should catch up./

"Shouldn't you head more south," I advice. "Someone else is more deserving of your visit."

A laugh. /Oh, don't worry, Naruto and I are more than caught up. He's complained that you weren't too responsive to his calls though./

"Tell him that I have life, and he does not compose ninety-nine percent of it."

/Noted./

"When will you arrive."

/Actually, I'm off to my flight in the morning. I'll see you Sunday night – your time./

I frown. "Tomorrow," I clarify.

/Your tomorrow, my today,/ she laughs.

"How long are you staying?" I question cautiously.

/Three days or so. Is that going to be problematic?/

I glance over to Itachi, who is shuffling the cards in preparation of next game, hands swift and elegant. Then at the disarray of food wrappers and empty bottles in the corner. A sinking weight hits my stomach in when I realize the day's already over halfway through, as well as Itachi's stay.

/Sasuke? I asked if that's going to be a problem./

"I'm busy the next few days," I finally tell her.

She does not take my words seriously. /Say something I don't know,/ she lightheartedly replies. /You can't accompany me every minute, I know, I can keep myself occupied. And besides, Itachi's there. I'm sure he'll entertain me if I get restless./

My eyes narrow at her suggestion. No more interruptions. These next three days are worth more to me than shiploads of gold, and something _will _die if even a second is taken away.

"I believe it is best," I say dryly, "if you came at a later time."

/I'm afraid now is the only time,/ is her insistent reply.

I clutch the phone tighter. She's always like this.

"Sakura," I grit. "You don't understand how short notice this is."

/I _have_ tried to call you before,/ she sighs, her tone not accusatory, but far from repentant. /Sasuke, I'm not asking you to be accommodating. Honestly, I don't even expect you to go through the hassle of picking me up at the airport. I just ask you to sacrifice one dinner with me, if our friendship grants me that much./

I make no response.

/And Sasuke?/ she says sweetly, before her tone darkens. /You have no idea what kind of motherfucking HELL I went through to finalize these SHITHOLE deals and secure me this CRAPTASTIC break to see you – interrogated by CIA ASSHOLES, then those cockfaced TRIAD vanguards at gunpoint only at the BOTTOM of the list. And don't get me started with those senile, unreasonable stock-holding FUCKBAGS that have less brains than a plate of deep fried Canadian slugs-/

She inhales.

/So,/ she tells me calmly. /I'll see you tomorrow, prettyboy. Good day./

She hangs up.

I stare at my phone, my ears still ringing. Since when did Sakura... _curse_? She is insistent, but she also used to be considerate. Considerate enough to give me time and space. While not dropping a cluster of curses.

My mind goes back to the college dining halls; a peck, a warm smile, her back as she walked away. Naruto, one cheek on a propped fist, in his miserable whine, "_You're such a lucky bastard, Sasuke. She always gives you special treatment._"

"_She's refilling _coffee_._"

"_She _volunteered. _Realize if I asked her for a glass of _water_, she'll tell me to get it myself, say I'm a lazy git, punch my face, or all of the above with a lecture on feminism chucked in. You're such a lucky bastard._"

So I have officially fallen out of Sakura's favor, and yet she's determined to see me. That combination can only mean persuading her otherwise is useless.

"Everything went well?"

I glare at the cause of my misery. "Excuse me if calling my ex wasn't entertaining enough for you," I bite out sarcastically, slamming my phone back on the table, and returning to our game.

He places the deck in front of me. "Lose again and your next task is to return an endearing conversation to Mr. Uzumaki..."

"You can't be serious..."

"... one for every of his missed calls on your log."

I blanch. If I wasn't in the habit of deleting my call log often, that number can easily stack up to hundreds. _A call a day keeps the demons at bay_, or whatever saying he made up. And he stuck by it. It's almost impressive.

"Fine," I agree, feeling the sweat trail down my neck. "And if you lose, you stop your lousy girl scheming and remain in my sight for the remainder of your stay."

"You don't trust me."

"No," I deadpan. "Never before and never after I woke this morning. To the calls of five different chicks who somehow magically got my number last night."

"You presume _you_ did not give them your number."

"I wasn't _that_ drunk."

"Exchange of phone numbers is a modern practice done to indicate interest in pursuing further social activities with the other person. May be a precursor to dating," Itachi states. "Examine the situation. Is your subconscious is not trying to tell you something?"

A pause.

"Yes. That you should stop trying to play as my subconscious, and I'll murder you if you pull something like this again. Which reminds me, I have yet to murder you for setting me up with that girl last night."

He raises an eyebrow. "Which one?"

There was _more than one_? And is that a confession right there? I pinch the bridge my nose. "Forget it, I don't even remember her name."

Itachi says nothing, only stare at my cellphone in contemplation. "Hm, then how about we raise the stakes, Sasuke?"

I look up. "What, you want me to call those five girls back too?" I snort.

"No, you will do that without my telling you. Even if you're not interested, you will decline politely, not abruptly end the call after a 'no,'" Itachi tells me, and I wrinkle my nose.

"Tch, whatever." A small, indignant part of me still wants to lash out that it's _his _fault for giving strangers _my _number without _my _permission, but as of now, I suppress the urge. No memory, no evidence, no conviction.

Itachi's demand turns out to be much more unreasonable. "Instead, if you lose, you have to go on one date before the year is through. One wholehearted date with anyone you want."

I stand up, on the verge of rejecting his deal when he adds, "And if I lose, then I will do anything you want me to for the remainder of my visit."

And suddenly, I am stunned cold and drop back down in my seat.

"Those two wagers don't seem balanced," I test, shaking, trying hard to swallow down my excitement and keep a level head. "You don't have much to gain either way, but you'll be giving up a lot."

"On the contrary, I'm giving nothing and gaining everything," Itachi chuckles, closing his eyes. "So do you agree to the conditions?"

My brain is still scanning for loopholes, but my mouth has already acted on its own, "Yes," because blood is rushing in my veins, my heart is thundering, and this opportunity is too exploitable to not seize before it's gone.

There is a trace of a grin in his lips. "Then, what shall the game be this time, Sasuke?"

Not a game of strategy, not a game of deceit nor manipulation; I know well enough to never face Itachi against those. Nor will I risk everything on a game of luck.

But there is one game that we are on equal par in. One of skill. One that needs the keenest set of eyes to follow any shuffle or cut. One that requires the highest caliber of memory to identify and place all fifty two cards by the end of the first cycle. One that Itachi and I have played against each other since we were young children. One that I _will _win.

"I declare War – One Cut."


	9. Chapter 9

Taken

* * *

><p>"<em>And suddenly, everything became so easy. 'You're mine,' is hardly a challenge compared to 'have me.' Staring down at him is a breeze compared to staring down at yourself in the mirror.<em>"

* * *

><p>No way! No way, no way, no way. Okay. Am I dreaming or is the almighty _Sasuke_ the one calling _me_?/ Naruto's distinctive voice booms from my phone – grainier than sandpaper, louder than a megaphone, happier than all the sunshine and rainbows melted together. /Oh man, you have no idea how long I've been trying to get a hold of you. Listen, there's something really important I need to-/

"Actually... this is his brother."

A loud curse, the unmistakeable thud of the phone being dropped.

/ITACHI?/

The cool granite, the gentle flow of water. The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and despite enough darkened rings under my eyes to cast me for any Grudge movie, I mentally laugh my psychotic, malicious, evil laugh that manifested of itself after twenty three years of impatiently waiting for this day.

"Yes, my name is Itachi Uchiha," my wonderfully _obedient_ brother reads, "and I am here to leave a message, to you, Mr. Naruto Uzumaki, that shall serve as evidence for any future references: as of earlier today, 10:06 AM EST, I was unable to win against my younger brother, Sasuke Uchiha, in some activity..."

I can't restrain the smirk threatening to split my face in two. The whole demand is crude, it's disgustingly immature, and guess what, I don't give a damn, because Itachi. Did. Not. Win. It's the ultimate abuse of power: Itachi, make me breakfast, Itachi, fetch me the newspaper, Itachi, bring me coffee. I take another sip of coffee and savor the rich flavor. Ah, life.

Itachi tosses away my script. "But for the record, Sasuke didn't win either," he quickly tags on the fine print.

I spit out my coffee.

"I didn't give you permission to say that," I hiss, glowering at him. I try to snatch back my blackberry, but he easily slides away.

"Instead, as of earlier today, 9:57 AM EST, my darling younger brother woke up on the floor, snuggled against me like the cutest kitten-"

"Itachi!"

He gracefully evades and is on his feet. He paces around the fountain, lips twitching. "-on top of a blanket of French playing cards in enough disarray for him to finally conceded to a truce."

"That's _NOT_ what happened-" I wrestle with my brother over the phone.

He twists his wrist and tilts his head so his ear against the phone. "It's a pity that even after all these years he came short..."

"_Itachi_, _shut_-"

"... because he would have won in the end."

"-up?"

We are in a locked position when Itachi smiles and continues. "His eyes have truly become sharp. His tricks also gave me a run for my money, and I was very surprised he saw through mine so quickly."

A blink. I release him.

"You weren't too bad yourself," I mumble. Itachi's always had the hands of an illusionist. He loved to dazzle children with card tricks - I was his favorite victim. And it isn't that I've seen through his tricks as that I've had enough practice to know what he'll try to pull. "And you would have w-"

"Of course, his memory remains dreadful," Itachi casually adds, and I snap close my mouth, glare, and do something shamefully childish. I push.

He takes me down with him, grabbing my wrist at the last minute.

One crash later, I am on top of him, my palm and knee pressed against a myriad of coins, my clothes soaking wet. Itachi presses his forehead against mine, the smile never leaving his lips. "I believe Sasuke would like to speak to you now," he says, then presses the phone against my ear.

"Naruto..." I begin. "Laugh, and I'll sue your ass to high debt heaven."

Absolute silence.

Then, there is a strangled-choking chortling noise from his end of the line, followed by some heavy pounding on wood.

An entirety of sixty seconds later, Naruto recomposes himself and says, /N-no, I'm not la- laf- laffz- oh fuck, hold on./ He doesn't bother to conceal the bawling guffaw that follows.

Meanwhile, students spare a minute of their time to send me a curious look. Whispers circulate. Well, isn't this wonderful, caught playing in the campus fountain with my brother.

I stare daggers at him. "You drugged my coffee, didn't you?" I hiss accusingly.

"Just a sprinkle of sugar," he says, pretending to be blissfully unaware of what sugar does to me.

Days like these, I want to screw morals, screw laws, and just strangle him. But I can't, not with the bittersweet taste in my mouth, not with his forehead pressed against mine, the tender smile gracing his lips, that makes time seem to rewind and stop.

I toss him a page of my Sunday paper and a pen. "Do that and behave yourself," I command, kicking off my shoes and unbuttoning my shirt.

"You will catch a cold." Like he has the right to talk.

"Shut up," I grit my teeth, taking another deep gulp of steaming hot coffee, then slamming it down on the fountain granite.

I will _not_ break out of routine. I will pretend the weather is _not _as ridiculously cold as it is. I will pretend half the campus isn't gawking at me like they've never seen the male anatomy before. I will enjoy my lousy coffee with my lousy paper and pretend Itachi is not here, my lousy brother who is clicking the lousy pen and scribbling down the lousy answers to the lousy crossword without even so much as a lousy blink.

I will redial Naruto's lousy number, then I will get out of this lousy sugar-induced foolishness and return to _normalcy_.

"Repeat after me," I calmly state. "I saw nothing, I heard nothing, and if I ever bring this up again, _ever_, this number and every variant of will be on Sasuke Uchiha's permanent block list."

/I saw nothing, I heard nothing, and if I ever something something, then I'll cry./

Fair enough.

"So what's the important thing that made it necessary to spam my voice mail more so than usual?" I keep my tone flat, and flip the newspaper.

/Uhh.../ There is a stretched pause at the end of his line. /Well, about that.../

I wait.

/Um... well... err... so... you know, Sakura... well, she's.../

"I already know."

/WHAT?/

"Itachi made me call her. She told me yesterday on the phone."

/SHE DID?/

"Yes."

/A-and you're fine with that?/

"I gave my protest; she wouldn't hear it." I hear a crash, follow by some background voices.

/You-you're being awfully calm about the whole thing.../ he laughs nervously.

I'm a little surprised by his tone. "I dislike this turn of events, Naruto, but I'm not mad. I can't forbid her if she wants to. It would have been better if the notice wasn't so impromptu."

Under different circumstances, I might have welcomed her presence. We broke up, but last time I checked, we held no ill feelings towards each other, and can handle civilized, intellectually stimulating conversations. Naruto should understand that better than anyone.

But all I hear is an increasing speech impediment that is very out of character for him. /W-wow,/ he chokes. /Okay, I guess if you honestly don't mind, then we spared a lot of drama./

His tone slowly shifts back to normal, and the silly, mischievous edge he carries returns. /Oh man, I can't believe this is actually _happening_. Okay, Sasuke, just remember you have to dress _real_ spiffy – Sakura's been going absolutely _crazy_ trying to get this down. She told you about the mafia right?/

"The Triad?" I say, amused.

/That, and some nuisance with the Cosa Nostra. Several governments are also giving her trouble, so she asked me to clear some things over with the FBI here.../ He rambles on.

My eyes leave the paper, and my hand lowers the coffee cup. Furrowing my eyebrows, I interrupt, "You are _serious_. Sakura is in some kind of _trouble_."

/Oh yeah. But she asked for it, y'know. Came with the job description,/ he laughs.

"Naruto..." I begin hesitantly. The cup hits the granite. I lean forward, fully engaged in the conversation now. "What's going on?"

/Hm?/

"Why is Sakura getting involved with these people?" I demand, irritated by his lighthearted tone now. First the stammering over something as trivial as a visit, and now joking over something like _this_. And unless Sakura suddenly became an international drug lord, my mind can't piece together any part of this conversation. "How is this related to her work?"

/Sasuke...?/ It's Naruto's turn to be confused. /Is this like a trick question?/

"No, it's not. What's going on."

/Yo, she's working for _Itachi _of all people. This kind of shit is a daily occurrence... Come on, even _I _know that they face crazy stuff like that...

/Hello...?/

I stare at Itachi, cellphone lowered. His gaze rises and meets mine, before he hands me back my paper, completed.

I ignore it.

"You hired _Sakura._"

When he says nothing, a sudden wave of indignation bubbles through me. "You never mentioned this." My voice comes out harsher than I intended, but he _knows_ I _hate_ being left out in the dark, and I am sure my ex-girlfriend working for him falls under the jurisdiction of _inform Sasuke_. It isn't like he hasn't had the time to do so, having been here _three days _and Sakura coming up in conversation _thrice_.

Actually, forget that. Itachi can tell me nothing, as he usually does, Sakura can do whatever she pleases, as long as she's fine. I am mad over the fact that _Naruto_ knows this, but I do not.

"We agreed to a double loss, Itachi," I remind. "Answer me: how long has Sakura been working for you?"

His facade only falters briefly, and whatever uneasiness I sensed quickly faded to resignation. "Two..."

"Months?"

"... years."

My brain racks for answers. Two years... she has been with Itachi since college graduation?

_Currently in charge is a recent Harvard graduate._

_A lot has happened in Munich..._

_Very charismatic, assertive, and innovative. Incredibly strong. Also one of the most brilliant people I've met._

_Itachi's there. I'm sure he'll entertain me if I get restless._

It doesn't take long for my mind to piece everything together and solve the puzzle.

"Itachi," I begin, cooly, collectedly, and yet with my breath caught in my lungs and my nerves surging in anticipation and panic. "What else have you forgotten to inform me?"

A pause.

Then, a sigh. "You never do answer your phone, Sasuke."


	10. Chapter 10

Taken

* * *

><p><em>"I became an integral part of his life. I played check over and over until capture was more and more inevitable, and ignoring me was no longer possible. In this game, you cannot control the other player, cannot force them to endgame, but you can aim to win, to trap, to take yourself. But waiting... waiting will result in nothing."<em>

* * *

><p>"Sasuke!" Karin stops in her tracks, frozen, and ogles her heart out.<p>

I ignore her and throw my shirt over my shoulder, pacing away from Itachi, who nonetheless follows me like puppy. Ha, that's laughable.

Concealment of truth. Eleven across: LIE.

One who does eleven across. Thirteen across: LIAR.

"Wait-" Karin tries to stop me, just as Juugo arrives by her side.

"Fool," I state, slapping the newspaper on her. Then tilting my head, "One who wins all War. Four letters. Twenty one down," before marching on.

"Sasuke, someone's looking for you," Juugo calmly states as I pass him.

I stop. She said Sunday _night_.

Juugo extends a business card towards me, a phone number handwritten on the back. I raise an eyebrow at the name of the corporation.

"After that trial Friday," Juugo explains, "Orochimaru asked Kimimaro for information on you. He's not just interested, Sasuke, not here for a "congratulations, you have potential" coffee discussion. He _wants_ you, no matter _what_, and came with a serious offer for a high up position. Possibly a position even above Kimimaro in the firm." He added, with a chuckle, "I think you made my boyfriend jealous."

"Oh my gosh, this is IT_, _Sasuke!" Karin exclaims, her eyes shining with starstruck admiration. "To get into _THE _top firm, but also to be selected by Orochimaru _himself_, and all in your second year. With this, you are _set_!"

I impassively glance down at the card once more, before sliding it in my pocket and walk away. Stopped once more.

"Please call him _now_," Juugo advices, a hand on my shoulder. "Do it while Orochimaru is still here. You cannot let this opportunity slip away."

I stare into Juugo's eyes. All too familiar words slip out of my lips automatically. "I'm busy," I say. "I'll do it some other day."

Both Karin and Juugo cannot conceal their shock at my icy coldness, not a shred of enthusiasm, not a hint of warmth nor victory.

"You... you might not want to do that," Juugo warns, "You'll ruin his impression of you... and he isn't a patient man to begin with."

"Sasuke, this is _Orochimaru_!" Karin babbles, too shellshocked.

"If he wants me no matter what," I say evenly, "then he should have no problem _waiting_." Too much aggression escapes on the last word, and before my anger becomes too uncontrollable, I push them away and leave.

I stride onwards, my eyes focus on the distance ahead, trying to clear my mind. A pair of footsteps follow me, only blurring it with more rage.

The anger is irrational, but I still find excuses to rationalize it anyways.

I am angry, because Itachi barred me from anything relevant to his work, because he never once thought I was competent enough, but has no problem putting a twenty-three year old girl in charge.

I am angry, because that twenty-three old girl is my ex-girlfriend, a person I judged as inferior, to add to the insult.

I am angry, because that _ex-girlfriend_ is currently in a relationship with my _brother_, and I'm now jealous and enraged and want her back, because that is how I am suppose to feel under these circumstances.

I am angry that my best friend, the moron goof, knew about all of this, he and a billion _other_ people not the least relevant, but I, the ex-boyfriend and brother did not.

"Sasuke..."

My line of vision falls on his hands once more, on the silver ring. The thing that has bothered me since the moment I set my gaze on it. Instead of ignoring its presence, I should have been analyzing it. The ring hasn't been his usual subtlety. And within a second, I have to avert my gaze again, unable to look any longer, avoiding it as I have the entire time.

I am angry, because the relationship may be something more, but that was the one question I did not ask Itachi, because I am scared of the answer, and I am angry at myself for that too.

Most of all, I am angry, because I _actually believed him_. That this time, Itachi came for _me_, as he oh so wonderfully lied, and not for some lousy side agenda or to deliver craptastic news. You'd think that after falling into the same trap over and over again, I'd have learned my lesson. But no, it's always the same, and Itachi is just that brilliant of a performer.

"Please Sasuke..."

I am so angry that I want to commit murder, and simultaneously, I am able find a billion motives, as well as a billion justifications that can bring the law to my side and allow me to escape scotch free. I will escape without a single false remark, but none of it will be the _truth._ I can lie to myself as smoothly as Itachi can lie to me.

No, my anger IS rational, just not for any of the reasons above. But since I long refused to listen to the _truth_, labeling this anger as _irrational_ works just fine.

"Sasuke-"

I stop. Turn around at an intercept. "I believe you have completed your mission here," I bitterly spit out. "Little brother informed. You may leave now."

The light turns green and I cross, picking up my speed. And thus, the routine continues. We have been through this cycle – wash, rinse, repeat.

Just dump the bucket on me.

Drain me to the core after every meeting.

Make me hate you more that I already do.

A blaring honk. A grab of my arm. The flash of a turning car.

We stand in the middle of the busy street, Itachi staring into my eyes with his own over-pooling shock, fear, and sick worry, holding onto me so tight his hand is shaking – the one with the beautiful ring on it, I may add – and I, I wishing that car had fucking rammed me over and then some until I was a bloody mess, so I may _sue his fucking ass_ for failing to yield to fucking pedestrians! It's a fucking GREEN LIGHT, ASSHOLE.

For the first time, Itachi is speechless, his breathing uneven, everything falling out of his oh so perfect control, because he didn't predict this would happen, did he?

No, he thought he could keep me in the dark until dinner time, when his pretty young new wife arrives, and she would begin with conversations of the weather, gradually moving up how they know each other and then the business, and then they would hold hands at the table, and I would see matching rings, and I would blink back my shock, and they would smile prettily and tell me the good new _at the same time_, because it _must _be timed perfectly, and they would hold their breaths for any objections so they can pretend I had a say at all, and I would recover and scoff, then maybe irritably demand why I was not invited to the wedding to lighten the mood.

Or would it be more realistic of Sasuke to smash a few glasses and stand up, demanding who gave either of them permission to do that, and going into another petty tantrums of his that might freak Sakura out, but Itachi knows oh so well of.

Or maybe Sasuke should act as he usually does, which is nonchalant, maybe take a sip of the champagne and ask coolly, "Is that all?"

"Isn't that all?" I question.

Itachi is still searching for words, his lips parted, his eyes scanning me back and forth in concern because I must have _such _an ugly expression on at this moment that is _so inappropriate_ and must be changed back to professionalism _immediately_. "Sasuke-"

The light turns red. He is interrupted by the symphony of honking horns, some high, holding screeches, some short bursts of low baritone. Movement, yells, anger, an increasing heat and coldness.

Oh the sweet confusion. Why is the little brother so upset? Does he still harbor feelings for that one girl? Does he not approve of her in such hazardous work? Does he feel cheated that the visit held an ulterior motive after all? Or maybe he's just in another one of his inexplicable sour moods.

No, no, no...

No.

"No, you are wrong, Sasuke," Itachi finally figures out.


	11. Chapter 11

Taken

* * *

><p>"<em>And surprisingly... he surrendered."<em>

* * *

><p>"<em>Sasuke..<em>."

The way his fingers intertwined, squeezed, surging life, love, _mercy _down my numb hand. The way knife chipped and scratched away at floor tiles when he pulled me into his arms and held the back of my head and pressed me into his chest, so tightly I heard his heartbeat, pounding openly and honestly.

He cares, he cares, nothing else matters as long as he cares. Even if I fail every expectation, screw up a million times over, everything will be fine as long as he holds me like this, as he did that Christmas, as he does now in this busy intersection, the honks, the shouts, the cars weaving around us.

I can be disillusioned, my pitiful struggles can end in vain, but as long as Itachi can still be with me like this, I can't give up.

I had to rip the willpower out of me to interrupt the silence with a coarse, "You are not..."

Words faded away. I couldn't continue.

He couldn't reply either. At least, not immediately. Eventually, he murmurs softly, so softly I almost missed it over the noise, "When have we grown this distant, Sasuke?"

"I-"

"Maybe an invitation for mother, a notification for father, but you... you..." He squeezes tighter. "What could have made you ever assume I would go through something as important as a marriage without you."

Distance.

Time.

Ten thousand unanswered – no, ignored - phone calls.

A ring.

Never included me in his life anyway; no need to start now.

"Forgive me," he whispers. "This isn't a marriage, but this an engagement. I didn't want to keep you in the dark, not about this, not about Sakura, but I couldn't reach you, I couldn't stop time, and when she proposed, I couldn't say no... please... please forgive me, Sasuke."

I am still speechless. Itachi is losing his composure. Itachi, my perfect brother, is losing control, seeking excuses for a fault that isn't his, begging for a forgiveness he doesn't need, trying to appease an anger that has long simmered away. I am still speechless, but somewhere in the back of my mind, apart from all the confusion and doubt, I already know.

Itachi does all this because he is scared.

He is scared of my rage.

He is scared of the stupid, stupid things I can do when I become enraged.

He is scared of the sometimes irreversible damage those stupid, stupid things can cause.

He is scared that the lost, unstable child, the product of a weak, dependent mother and blind, temperamental father, will reemerge and reach for that knife again without thinking, or run across one of the busiest intersections without bothering to look both ways.

He is scared for me.

He is scared, and yet, I can't bring myself to tell him the child is already gone, and Sasuke – the successful law student with a shining future, the product of a brother that never stopped giving a damn – has returned. He is scared, and yet I say nothing to calm his fear, only bask in his comfort and exploit his love.

And only when I have taken enough of both do I silently push him away, stripping myself of an unneeded warmth.

I carefully exit the traffic pileup, knowing when he sees my feet on the lousy sidewalk concrete, fully capable of supporting myself, he will contain his relief.

The surroundings return. The chaos we created. The biting cold. A destination I could care less about; if a team cannot carry a debate without my presence, they don't deserve it.

It's still morning, but I'm tired. I don't want to think, not about this entire mess, so my mind switches to autopilot.

Go home. Isolate yourself. Change. Drown yourself in the technicalities, typing out word after word of a paper due someday. You know what, just do all the papers today. And when done, schedule an interview with Orochimaru, maybe entertain him a little, put him on edge with rejections. Get on all his nerves, squeeze out the most beautiful contract ever, with a starting wage that will make even the most elite, wealthy lawyers in the field faint.

Then quit.

Then ruin him, because what is Orochimaru but a stepping stone.

Then remember, as I tear his entire firm apart and seize the title of litigation king, that I am Sasuke Uchiha. I am not just the little brother of Itachi Uchiha, but I am his very creation, in every sense and being, and anything short of perfection is unacceptable.

I must be perfect, because Itachi is my idol, my religion, my everything, and if he will invest in me when no one else did, then I will make sure he is not disappointed. After all, Itachi makes no bad investments. And even if he gets married and he doesn't need me anymore, I will still remain perfect, ready to serve him, save him should that day come when Itachi has risked playing God one too many times and he is finally struck down.

I must remain perfect.

So snap out of it.

Now.

Nothing has changed. I know Sakura means nothing to me, so stop acting like she does. I care nothing for her romantically, so stop making him worry with this cold behavior.

Itachi softly calls out my name.

A small hesitation as I turn around, keeping my expression blank.

His aren't. Composed to the normal eye, but I see the plague of uncertainty currently devouring him from the inside out. My previous reactions must have been the worst possible scenario for him, and the impact is affecting him.

"Will you attend the dinner," he dares to ask. Will you hear the full story?

He cares for me, enough to fly to me, let my opinions be heard, as he demotes himself the role of an accused.

The dinner, the court. Sakura, the defendant. And I, I the prosecutor.

He makes sure I will be heard. I must be heard. He cares too much for me, for my happiness, to ever try to steal away a girl I might truly love, a person who can make me happy.

I look down at his hand, the piece of jewelry he faithfully kept on his entire stay here.

I wonder if he cares enough for me to sacrifice his own happiness and let that ring slip from his finger.

Maybe.

Probably.

Yes.

I don't even need a single testimony to win this battle, do I? Itachi has already relinquished all rights to me, will follow me down to the letter, because he made me not just the prosecutor, but also the judge and jury.

Just say no, and Sakura, regardless of how far she has come, will inevitably lose.

Just say no, and the ring will slip.

Just say no, no, no, and Itachi will refuse every offer, close the case to every ring, remain untaken and unclaimed as he have for the past twenty-eight years of his life. After all, his little brother came first, his time is devoted to him first, and even if he turns thirty, forty, fifty, he will not settle down until he knows Sasuke has finally grown up and stabilized with a family of his own.

I have always known this, but pretended otherwise. Acted ignorant so well I convinced myself my brother as a lying, promise-breaking, uncommitted player. Forgot that I am the one who turned him into that.

Maybe I can keep him as that, watch Sakura's face fall as I just say-

"Yes," I dryly tell him, then leave.


	12. Chapter 12

Taken

* * *

><p>"<em>Now, there is only one last factor...<em>"

* * *

><p>"More wine, Mr. Uchiha?"<p>

I stop swirling the near-empty glass in my hand. With much effort, I pry my fingers off and settle the glass down on the table with a loud, unforgiving _thud._

The waiter winces, then pours me more wine from a bottle of Margaux older than my grandfather.

Bitterly dry; how considerate.

Sleek, modern glass penthouse, personal pianists, one grand Armani suit to even get in, let alone dine on a seven course meal that will be inevitably in the five digits. I wonder briefly who will be paying for this bill.

Itachi has never once not paid in full for a dinner with a lady, a result of our father's pride, mother's courtesy, and his own consideration. Whatever his companions desire, he grants, and females have been preying on him like vultures.

On the other hand, the reservation _is _under Haruno. Sakura is orchestrating this play, and she can be very determined. Determined enough to be my girlfriend even if it meant working two jobs on top of her Harvard studies, because I did not play prince charming, and if she cannot rise to my standards, we were through. And if she cannot afford something this petty, she definitely has no chance of any further association with _my brother_.

Somehow, either way, I am displeased.

I bring the wine to my lips.

Sakura Haruno.

Middle class, unattractive girl with nothing but book smarts, a stale 4.0, and unimpressive intelligence. No talent.

While the other students had _ambitions_, she had _dreams_. Of Cinderella tales, of romance.

Yet, unlike her peers, she realized fairy tales are not delivered on a silver platter. If you want the multimillion pretty boy, you must _work_ for it. Another doctor, you will not impress me, a lawyer, you cannot beat me. Harvard is not enough, noteworthy research is not enough, your face on the cover of a magazine or two is _not enough_.

Only she understood this, while the other girls rushed to surgery, gushed out compliments, confessed, confessed, _confessed _when they knew they were unworthy of me, continually offending me by believing I can fall for anyone so insubstantial with mere _words_. That I will give you stupid, lazy, _useless _girls, my attention, all because you _confessed. _Admitted your lust, your distraction, your hope for free meal, so you may cling onto me and benefit from my future wealth and fame.

Maybe that is why Sakura got so far. She stopped wasting her time _confessing_ and used her energy to turn herself into someone _worthy. _Could hold down a debate, tackle any business deal, put the world in a whirl with contributions in everything from science to politics. Most of all, she became _useful_. Her connections, influence, and fame gave me reasons to want her. Possibly keep her, had she not been disillusioned and realized I wasn't her dream.

No tender smiles, no affectionate compliments. No sentimentality, no passion. I will kiss, but I will not hug. I can defend, but I cannot comfort. And most of all, I will not put her interests before my own. I will not compromise, and I will never stop being selfish, ready to sacrifice anything, including her, to obtain my goals.

Her dream had been an ocean away, and now, currently across from me, sending a polite, sympathetic smile to the waiter, whom I am equally treating as nonexistent.

Sakura Haruno. She is a surprise. Never would I have thought _she_, of all people, would ascend above_ me_ and claim my brother's heart.

Or did she?

I set the glass down, looking up at the woman who stepped behind my brother's chair. Expensive business suit, designer shades. Not a hint of cosmetics, perfume, nor jewelry past the ring gleaming on her finger as she lifts her sunglasses.

Funny.

I expect a dazzling appearance, a ballgown, diamond necklaces. A higher performance to match her higher stature, and yet she even lost the meticulously make-upped face from when we dated.

Instead, she is more naturally radiant, eyes smiling, her entire presence warm, almost outright sexy from the attention she is attracting. She is, after all, no longer the girlfriend of Sasuke Uchiha, but the fiancee of Itachi Uchiha. And any girl Itachi even looks at is instantly desirable.

"Sorry I'm late," Sakura says apologetically, knowing my utter intolerance of tardiness, "but Naruto had a tough time clearing national security, and my plane had to be delayed. And the attire too. I had a dress ready at the hotel, but I figured it'd be best to not keep you two waiting any longer."

I make no comment as she proceeds to quickly exchange a kiss with my brother, then settle for the chair next to him.

"So." An exhale. "Guess the cat got out of the bag a little too early, huh?"

Itachi can only smile. "It was a little silly to act ignorant when the evidence was right on my finger."

Sakura taps her jaw with a finger. "But really, Sasuke? A _wedding ring_?" It is not mockery. Only a tease to lighten the thick, suffocating atmosphere.

But it will not work. I prepare to make this dinner hell, see who cracks first.

My hand reaches for my glass, as the first course, sweet pea ragout, is served.

"I assumed," I say coolly, "only _women_ wear engagement rings. And after the _men_ propose."

Sakura laughs. "You can say that tradition made me a little impatient. And it did feel unfair that a man can call dibs on a woman, but not the reverse."

I place on a smirk. "Such trust."

"Formality," she states, not the bit fazed. Then, with a wink, "And protection. Nothing else works better as a chastity belt than a ring. So if those college girls are still giving you a hard time, Sasuke..."

"Women are nothing to fear. I will manage."

She leans back. "Ever change your mind, give me a call, and I'll set you up with my dealer. Their silver is truly beautiful."

"Silver tarnishes."

"True; silver is not meant to be slipped on and forgotten. One must take very special care of it," she replies, lowering her eyelids. "_Constantly_."

"I'm afraid that will not suit me then."

"I suppose not."

We finish. The plates switch. Gratin dauphinoise. How safe.

"So, Sasuke, you probably have some questions as of now. What would you like to ask me?"

"What do you feel you need to explain?"

"Nothing." She bites, swallows. "But I can douse some of your curiosity.

"As you know, after graduation, I went to Europe – job opportunity. Several actually, but they were disappointing. I even thought about returning to Harvard for a MBA. But then, I met someone... _interesting_, and through a long, windy story I shall not grace you with, I found myself in Munich, on behalf of a collapsing firm. Negotiated with a company under your brother, who has done a fabulous job of monopolizing every damn thing in the blasted country_._"

Itachi smiles. "You exaggerate."

"I wish," Sakura sighs, then returns her attention to me. "They were all brutal, relentless bastards. After we were bought, you can say I had no choice but to play on his team. My job was of circumstance, our first meeting also accidental, but the rest was intentional."

"That all?"

"I'm also pregnant."

Both my brother and I nearly spit out our wine. Perfect timing on her behalf, as the waiters come just then and switch plates – langoustine, and glasses – Chardonnay.

Sakura controls her laughter. "I apologize, but I _am_ engaged to my ex's brother. It felt necessary."

"You-"

"Maybe in a drama, but there exists condoms in reality," she chuckles. "But that factor would be nonetheless interesting and quite... binding. Legally, of course. Enough for me to not need this dinner."

I can barely control my shaking, as I tightly clutch the silverware.

She keeps the smile and twinkling eyes, bringing the food to her lips. Then hesitates and lowers her fork, the smile becoming more subdued, less humorous.

"A pity how even if you finally capture the queen, you must still knock down the king to win," she whispers, settling down her food.

With a renewed fierceness in her eyes, she leans on the table and laces her fingers. "Enough small talk, Sasuke. You are always for concision, so allow me: I want your brother. I want our wedding the end of spring. I've already gained your mother and father's permission in Vienna and Tokyo, and I am now here for yours, out of both courtesy and by Itachi's request. So just say yes, and you are free from the rest of this insufferable dinner."

Now is the time to put up the cold countenance, the eyes of condescension, maybe a sneer of 'you bother me with_ this?_'

Go ahead.

Sign the contract; make each other mutually miserable.

I do not care what happens in her life, nor his, just as that victorious gleam in her eyes supposes.

Three words escape my lips. "And if denied?"

Green eyes widen briefly. But then again, she comes prepared.

"Then we move on to negotiations. You'll obviously have no inclination to say yes unless this benefits you, so... Itachi, will you do the honors?"

My brother is still silently examining me, as he has this entire dinner. I keep my facade, as I have this entire dinner. He may always see through me, but I will not let him this time, as I stare back, awaiting his response.

Entertain me, dear brother. Here I am, in clear discontent, still hating you for never telling me, still hating you for taking a woman I might have mixed feelings for, a woman I am equally displeased with at the moment.

She with her tardiness, blithe humor, gall.

Believing she deserves my brother.

That she has a _right_ to him, because of a piece of jewelry she forced on his finger.

Treating him as a possession, an asset to be bargained for. Capable of being bought off our mother, our father, and now, me.

What can you possibly say, dear brother, for me to not throw this wine glass at that bitch's triumphant face this instant.

A silence.

Then,

"... did you enjoy my company, Sasuke?" Itachi quietly asks instead, throwing me off guard.

What does-

He closes his eyes. "I could not comfort our mother during her illness. I missed my best friend's wedding day. And you, I have not stopped thinking about our last phone call."

I freeze, as he opens his eyes, his expression, for the first time, purely honest. "My little brother number one, earned the privilege of delivering a speech before his graduating class, and I had to tell him I could not make it. He gave me nothing but pride that day, and I returned him nothing but disappointment.

"Too many times that has happened, too many times my own ambitions have taken over what I sometimes want more than anything else. And when I do see you, it always ends like this. A quarrel, a conflict... I would like it to stop.

"So, I ask you, Sasuke. Before this morning, did you at least enjoy your time with me? Would you like to see me again?

"Because Sakura... Sakura has proven herself capable of managing the company, handled the deal wondrously. And after the wedding, should there be a wedding, I plan to place the entire Munich Project in her hands. My most daring project, my most challenging, and my last."

I am numb down to my fingers. "What do you mean last?" I ask shakily.

He nods his head in concession, a sad smile gracing his lips, before he sends me his death sentence.

"For you... for everyone I hold dear... I wish to retire."


	13. Chapter 13

Taken

* * *

><p>"S<em>asuke.<em>"

* * *

><p>"That is the deal. Company for marriage. So say yes, Sasuke, and I get my man, Itachi gets his freedom, and you get all the brotherly bonding time you'll ever want," Sakura chuckles. She lifts her glass in a pseudo-toast, before taking a slip of the Chardonnay, as the waiters come to switch plates.<p>

My heart is still thumping, my breathing halted, as I look down at my plate. It doesn't register immediately.

Sakura's eyes widen for a split second when she realizes the dish, and all her previous mirth vanished.

Foie gras. The one mistake I have been waiting for.

Height of French culinary cuisine, excess of luxury, the dish of ambition, passion, anger. The dish that made my mother ill numerous times, forced my father to the hospital, and is now causing my brother to avert his gaze as he swallows down all the memories he has been forced to eat it, with the seedy politicians and greedy businessmen, the blind leaders and manipulative bastards.

Foie gras. Such a faux pas is enough evidence for me to place on a smug grin and strike down the gavel, because regardless of her qualifications, if Sakura cannot satisfy my brother in something as simple as a _dinner_, she can forget about marriage.

Yet, the only one choking is still me, as bile rises up my throat.

Sakura abruptly demands the plates be taken away, Itachi tries to calm her panic, and I am oblivious to it all, because none of this matters anymore.

Itachi is retiring.

Itachi is retiring.

Retiring, retiring, _retiring_.

The very idea is like a bone-crushing blow, utterly paralyzes me, as I watch all my vows snap, my achievements burn to ash, ambitions turn meaningless. To zigzag in the darkness for ages, and when you finally do find a light, a purpose you will labor for, slave for, sacrifice for, the path ends with no destination. The end justifies the means; the philosophy adopted by my family for generations. Only I have the privilege of my end stripped from me, a Knights Templar forsaken by his God.

Once the initial shock wavers, the rage settles in.

Regardless of where we stood before, Sakura has made herself an enemy the second she crossed into my territories and interfered with my plans. Perhaps her high throne has made her a little too confident, if she dares challenge _me_. How unfettered are my ambitions. To what lengths will I go to fulfill my purpose. Unlike Sakura, who fiercely struggles with gives and takes, I am ready to sacrifice _anything _to get what I want. Even the peace and happiness of my own blood brother, because those things really are _worthless_ if they can be provided by the likes of_ her_-

A sudden vibration snaps me back into reality.

From my pocket, I take out my blackberry and look at the number.

Though I have planned for this, the timing is still unfathomable. A call, a call, a third voice, trivial matters, something, anything to ground me back to earth. Just in case I fall apart.

I regain control of my voice, "Pardon," and exit.

It becomes much easier to think and breathe on the glass balconies, with fresh frigid air, space open to the city, and the infinite night sky.

/Um... Is this Sasuke?/

"Hinata."

A small yelp, then stammering. /Ah, is, is this a good time? Um, I-I got your c-call this morning. I'm so sorry I didn't respond earlier, but it's that... I didn't- I didn't know how- um, well, truthfully, I... I would not have expected you to- just because you didn't do anything wrong, and it was all my fault actually, b-but it was still very... kind... and thoughtful.../

I bring the phone down, letting distance drown out the words, letting my fury dissipate like heat. Leave me cold, leave me numb, as I watch the skylines, the gleaming strings and bulbs of the traffic. Golden, twinkling.

Funny how one minute you think you have an entire city in the palm of your hand, and the next, realize you are but another speckle of light. An insignificant human walking in circles, following the flow of traffic, the cycles of quotidian as time pass. A lawyer who can easily obtain the so-called dream of this country, maybe alongside a kind, gentle, and honest wife who will know how to provide all the love and compassion for a family.

A family... Stability. Comfort. Rest.

After all, Itachi has traded away the best years of his life for this. To dig deep into the roots of society, he dirtied his hands beyond cleansing, made countless enemies, gambled with dangerous stakes, and through it all, unlocked his full potential as a human being and changed the world. Call him Satan, call him the Fuhrer, he still gave people all around the world not defense, but protection. Not food, but nourishment. Not shelter, but homes. Not existence, but life.

There is a lot about Itachi to be admired, jealous of, worshiped for, but for me, it is his sense of purpose. Few people have visions, fewer people pursue them; and yet, he went beyond both and became something... _greater_.

It is because of that we never quite met eye to eye. Before the flights came in, when the world still churned slowly, there was a time where we sat on a patio late evenings in a sort of lost paradise along the Riviera. He would read to me a book of cryptic phrases from his mind, from redundant observations to nonsensical haikus, which always drove me insane and caused me to charge him, and when we both fell over, he would press his forehead against mine and laugh. Most of what he said was lost to the wind, a portion of them would later slap my face as I play the fool. But one particular phrase, one particular moment always cemented in my mind, and that was the day he stared off into the sauntering sun, and, with a simple smile, told me he would be my ultimate obstacle in life.

He was, in many different ways. He was the genius star, bright, overshadowing, and everything just fell into his orbit, even me.

I wanted to believe he was giving me incentive to break free of his overpowering dominance, harvesting me to become something worthwhile, maybe forging me into a future weapon or shield to be by his side for his conquest. I wanted acknowledgment, I needed pride, and every time the plane landed and he reappeared in my life, it was to remind me that I still had to strive to better him. I never could, and we both knew that; it was only a thought of encouragement to help me become someone.

He meant something a little different when he said those words. That one Christmas, he held the Harvard application in his hand not because I was disappointing his high expectations, but because I was disappointing mine. Six months earlier, when he called about my college plans, he had joked of the dreadful Cambridge weather, teasingly urged for some nameless school in Hawaii, propagating sunny beaches and waves, beautiful girls and luaus, and even irresponsibly, a few good drinks.

To him, college was that transition out of your horrible, uncontrolled, mistake-ridden adolescence, a step towards full adulthood while still retaining the joys and freedoms of a child, a student who has yet to worry of employment or taxes or rent. To him, college was a fresh start for me to discover myself, my interests, and my lifetime friends. To him, any college would do, any study would do, and if it pleased me, I could very well be a musician or artist or writer, some horrid Hemmingway-wannabe with a cynic Nietzsche undertone, a broke failure, and he would nonetheless smile, act as my patron for my arts, and laud my work with enough praise to send the world spinning and buying out every copy.

When Itachi told me I was his ultimate obstacle, he didn't mean I had to _surpass_ him, fighting rigorously to obtain a decimal of what he achieved. He was my ultimate obstacle in the sense that his entire existence was the one thing I refused to ignore, chasing after him was the one thing I stubbornly continued to do. And if I could just _give him up_, then I can easily walk out of his shadow, into the sunlight, enjoy my life, and just be...

/... happy, since I didn't t-think you'd remember, and you... you're the first to go all out just to r-reach me... I get embarrassed and never remember to give numbers and.../

"Hinata, would you like to meet sometime in the future? If only to make up for Friday night. My treat."

An absolute silence, before finally, a hesitant, /Do- do you mean a-/

"A date."

I pay little heed to the stammers, only wait until I hear, /Ah, um, I guess that's... okay...-/ and that's all I need.

"Do you have a preferred time or location?"

/Um... anytime after six is fine. And I guess any... c-cafe? Like m-maybe the one around campus... I heard they came out with a good drink, a chocolate twist... or maybe the Au Bon-/

"The former sounds good. I must still confirm my own schedule, but I'll get back to you when I do."

Then, as an afterthought, "And Hinata, I am switching phones, so if it's a different number..."

/Oh! Okay, I understand. And t-thank you so much!/

"No, thank you," I conclude as I make my way back to the table, then hang up.

Both Itachi and Sakura look up at me, out of concern or curiosity.

"Did something happen, Sasuke?" Sakura questions, her fifth course untouched. There is no appetite by now.

"No," I say. "Just a date."

Itachi contains his shock much better than Sakura, who incredulously asks, "You asked a woman out on a date at a time like this?"

"I cannot control when someone calls," I respond coolly, "nor would it be polite of me to put a lady on hold."

I place my cellphone on the table, not bothering to reseat.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, it has been a long night, and I would like to leave."

"What! Sasuke, you can't just-"

I interrupt her. "If I say yes, then I am free from the rest of this insufferable dinner. Was that not the condition? Then, I say yes. Yes, you have my permission. Yes, you may marry my brother. Yes, you may have your wedding whenever it pleases you. But..."

Here, I turn to Itachi. "But this is the last time I will be bothered. I respect your wishes to marry and retire, Itachi, but do not waste your time on me, because I have no time to waste on you. I do not want you here. So please, after the wedding, respect _my_ wishes and stay away."

I hear a chair violently slide out. I hear my name shouted and cursed. I hear Sakura's heel ready to follow me had a hand not stopped her.

I feel Itachi's gaze burning into my back as I exit. He remains the one to sit calmly, because he is tactful enough to let me depart, allow me room and time to think. He wants to avoid unnecessary conflicts. In my current mood, I am dangerous, venomous, threatening. Sakura herself is a fiery woman who isn't below dealing mental or physical blows to her adversaries. In this escalating tension, it is best to console her first, track me down second.

Only, he will fail with the latter.

I want to useful and worthy, and that undying will has brought me to where I am today. Unfortunately, if he retires, then I am left with no use and no worth to prove, which, of course, leaves only _his_ will. For once, I shall comply.

But if Itachi wants me to be _happy_, living that ordinary existence with the beautiful wife and family, then I am afraid his presence will only hinder that.


	14. Chapter 14

Taken

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><p>"<em>And honestly, he doesn't matter.<em>"

* * *

><p>Hinata Hyuuga of immunobiology has made enough groundbreaking research to seize a Nobel prize. She is also a humanitarian, who works avidly to help the slum areas of the war-torn Ghana, as well as a writer of bestselling fiction novels for children. Verbally, she doesn't speak much, but utilizes judo to release stress and ballet to express happiness.<p>

As a person, she is soft, yielding, thoughtful, selfless, and peaceful. Family will always come before work, and she demands little, compromises plenty, with a matured understanding that love comes not in compliments, gifts, or even, togetherness. The last is key.

And she is indeed attractive, her hair trailing and soft, dark and long, feathers in the air.

She gently breaks away, shyly looks up to examine my expression. She smiles in a warm blush.

"T-thank you, Sasuke. Good night." And she disappears behind a door, while I step down back into the streets.

For a woman like Hinata, it is very easy to please her, very easy to obtain her. Had any of her admirers only found the brains or the balls to reach for a telephone book and dial her number, she probably would have fallen in love with one of them a long time ago. But she will now inevitably fall in love with me, and when that happens, I need very little maintenance to keep her faithfully by my side.

"Sasuke."

I stop in my tracks.

Well... that is one voice I have not been expecting.

He does a wonderful job of blocking the sidewalk, a chiaroscuro by the street lights sharpening his scowl. My- _a_ blackberry in his hand.

"I thought the drama would be spared."

Naruto Uzumaki steps fully into the light, and I see he has underwent some changes, from orange sweatshirts and dirty jerseys to the tall, dignified, and competent leader he's suppose to be if he ever wants a true shot at presidency. And if I remember correctly, he is here because I have recently broke my ties to Sakura, and indirectly, to him.

See, Naruto wants to be a politician, drenched in ideals, charisma, and passion. Unfortunately, politicians equate to nothing without wealth and support, which falls under Sakura's side of corporate business and finance. However, she, like all big businesses, will find herself in messes only I of the law division can pull her out of. In turn, Naruto can grant me unimaginable positions and amnesty to do as I please. Combined, we are quite the devastating force, capable of controlling the greatest country in the world, a feat ambitious even for my brother.

Yet, should one party withdraw... I smirk. "How did you find me, Naruto?"

"When satellites, intelligence, and hackers all fail," he says, "ask some campus girls. Your date today is the new hot topic."

Of course. Their ships of hope must have sunk by now. I walk by; he grabs my shoulder and forces me to stop.

"Are you aware that Itachi has been outside your apartment for three days?"

"As if he will catch me in such an obvious place-"

_Crack_.

I straighten my jaw.

Hm, I forget. Naruto speaks with both words and fists.

"No, the one going crazy trying to _catch_ you is Sakura!" he spits. "Your brother is the one waiting for you to come to him on your own volition. You owe both of them a damn explanation!"

"I owe them nothing."

"Sasuke!" he yells, shaking my shoulders. "_Wake up_! You know to Sakura this marriage is the single most important thing in her entire _life_. Maybe you find her below your outrageous standards, but not many women can love a man enough to take over the most stressful job in the world for him. And love her or hate her, as her friend, you are _obligated _to support this marriage."

"Last time I checked, I approved of the marriage."

He slams my back into the lamp post. "What approval? You didn't even bother a pretense." Naruto releases his hold on me. "Whatever dissent you have going on, I suggest you find them before their flight midnight and explain properly. That, or swallow it down and stop trying to make the people who love you miserable at every opportunity."

I say nothing, only push past him with my hands tucked in my pockets.

"You know, Sasuke, you're born to be a lawyer, and a damn good one. But you turn your talents against us, make simple matters complicated with bullshit, you and me are about to have some problems. You have less than an hour to clean up your act and get your ass down to their hotel!"

I pretend to not hear and turn the corner.

Naruto has made his position very clear. Through our college years together, of intense competitions and heated debates, he and I have forged a blood bond. He will have my back on anything.

But Sakura is a precious woman to him, and his love for her is far beyond any romantic attraction. Their history dates back to childhood times. Before his miraculous turn-about in high school. Before his career as champion underdog in college. All the way back when he was nothing but a dropout, and she was the teacher's pet who, either out of pity or morals, one day extended a hand out to him.

Naruto considers me his closest companion, a great asset and partner, a key player to obtaining his personal goals, and ultimately, a best friend he's willing to bite a bullet for. But if I hurt Sakura, he _will_ aim the gun at me. This isn't just bad business; this is personal, and the warning shot has been fired.

But he doesn't threaten me. Equally, I will survive either with or without his friendship.

The streets take several winds and turns before they become familiar. The signs don't matter; my sense of direction guides me. The first decent hotel I pass, I enter. The clock in the lobby ticks a quarter past one.

"One room recently became vacant but it hasn't been-"

"I'll take it."

It takes ten minutes to register and check in, swipe my card and sign my name. I am presented with a card key, of which I use to mechanically swipe into the second door down the hallway of the third floor. I need not switch on the light; I can see well that it's empty, clean, and unlived. The bed made, the curtains open, the desk empty, spotless and obsolete.

I halfheartedly expect to feel the smooth edge of a playing card stranded between the edge of the mattress and the headboard, or something that Itachi missed when he packed, but he isn't the type to overlook things and leave his possessions behind.

A complete silence settles in, and there only remains the red flickering of the nightstand clock.

At 3:12 AM, the door unlocks, the lights flickers on, and the door violently slams close.

"You are really trying my patience, Sasuke."

I don't bother pretending to be asleep. Neither do I look at my intruder.

The lock bolts shut, there are the heavy steps of standard heels against carpet.

"Three days..." Sakura clicks her tongue, "for three whole days, your brother did not eat, did not sleep... are you pleased now, Sasuke?"

I shift my gaze. Fine pressed beige suit, her arms are folded, hand exposed to reveal the gleaming silver ring. I close my eyes and reposition myself to lean against the headboard, resting my free hand on a knee; she stands taller.

My mouth finds words of it's own. "He's gone."

"Across the Atlantic. When the flight lands, he will have twenty minutes to arrive at the board meeting, and life will continue. For him, vacation is over... at least, until I take over." Her tone is professional, like a secretary reciting a schedule.

Her actions are not. She begins to unbutton her blazer and tosses it on the bed post, then kicks off her shoes. Without requesting for permission, she makes herself comfortable on the bed and shuffles her hair.

"I'm taking a separate flight in the morning," she reads my mind. "You will keep me company until then. You should appreciate it: an hour of my time is worth eight hundred euros."

I am in no mood for her dry humor, and Sakura knows well of this. She studies my expression, then chuckles to herself, "Of course, I am talking to the Sasuke Uchiha. You haven't even graduated yet, but I can only assume you will charge exorbitantly once you do. Your name isn't undistinguished. All top business corporations around the world will be battling for you. Itachi and I have had this conversation. He said you wanted to work for him when you were younger, which surprised me as much as learning he had no intention of hiring you."

My hand tenses, but it is hidden under bedsheets. My face betrays nothing. "Do you plan to keep me up all night with small talk?"

"Afraid so," she laughs, swinging a leg over the bed. "Until you talk, I'll have to. Please don't think I'm any more pleased, Sasuke. I gave up the opportunity to have sex with your brother on a private jet."

I strip off the comforter. My foot barely makes contact with the carpet when Sakura says, "Why do you think it took me two hours to get here?"

I clench my jaw.

"Naruto bugged you. His men are outside," she informs me.

She drapes her arms around my neck and leans in, close enough that I smell her perfume. "So, why don't you make yourself comfortable."

"Get out."

"No. You and I are going to have a nice, long night together, Sasuke."


	15. Chapter 15

Taken

* * *

><p>"<em>Whether he loves me, hates me, feels nothing for me, it does not change the fact that I have won."<em>

* * *

><p>"Back at our hotel, I offered to stand in for him on the board, give him a little more time. Hopefully, you'd come around by then. He declined. With you, three days may as well be three decades; you don't go back on your decisions. He's right. I should have known better."<p>

Sakura faces the mirror, combing through her hair, professionally stylized and layered. It's shorter than in our college days, but long enough to tie back. It makes her appear far more mature. Women will do anything to look younger, but for Sakura, the look works strikingly well for her. It speaks of experience. Competence.

She eyes me through the glass.

"Sasuke, let me say I didn't stay behind to convince you to come to my wedding. I would prefer if you came, but a wedding is a joyous event. If it's going to be a miserable experience for you, then don't bother." She places the comb down firmly on the dresser. "Instead," she says, turning around. "I'm here to talk about your brother."

I don't want to hear this; I don't trust Sakura with her words. In her younger days, they were riddled with assumptions and ignorance. Even now, she crosses lines, and can strike nerves that may or may not lead to a lot of blood. And I don't trust my own self-control if she pushes me past my limit, especially under these circumstances.

I stare out the window, the flash of lights outside.

But I don't have a choice, do I. She is not the first to want me to listen, but she is the first to successfully make me.

"Ah, where to begin," Sakura sighs, as she joins me on the bed. "Don't movies begin with first encounters? Then I believe I start with February eighteenth, sophomore year. Hard day to forget. Naruto won the Delegation award, Ino just returned to Paris, we had sex, _finally_, three days former, and the weather was subzero enough for Naruto to yell at me to hurry up to the noodle shop before his testes froze off. Some things, you never forget.

"It was there we met a supposed graduate student engaged in... what did he come up with again? Philosophy of Mathematics? Logic? Mindfuckery. In any case, he played us for fools, to the point I still can't tell exactly whether anything he said was deep, or crap, or both. Nonetheless, he gave a pleasant first impression. Amiable, witty, sensible, maybe a bit outlandish. And even though his face was near symmetrical to yours, never in a million years would have I ever connected him with you.

"Naruto took a immediate liking to him and invited him to dinner with us. In retrospect, I can't help but suspect the whole event wasn't as coincidental as I initially assumed. But you know the rest. You have no idea how much confusion I was in that day, Sasuke. You made me doubt my own judgment, made me wonder exactly what kind of man Itachi Uchiha really is, and what he has done to wrong you, because the amount of pure hostility and _intolerance _you brought in that day was absurd.

"February eighteenth. The day I first met the brother I never knew you had. Itachi is an excellent actor. And you, an excellent liar.

"The second time was after my job in Germany, at a social gather. I did my research that time. I was quite well aware who he was, as well as everyone else in the entire country. I was extremely cautious, skeptical, and shamelessly, a little curious. Even I would have thought I'd gone mad it if I said I once conversed with the most powerful man of the century about the immaterial in a noodle shop an ocean away.

"You can imagine my surprise when out of the thousands of guests, Itachi recognized me, identified me by name even, and kindly invited me to dine at a private table. Offered me a seat, poured me champagne, and treated me as the high goddess herself. It soon became apparent he wasn't interested in discussing business, only in keeping me comfortable and well situated. It was if I made a second encounter with the friendly philosophy graduate again, only with food and clothes now a thousand-fold more expensive.

"I was so baffled, I couldn't keep up the pretense anymore. I remember when I finally dared ask him, why on earth he was doing this, he smiled and told me, _Miss Haruno, I will always be a servant to the significant other of my little brother_.

"At the time, he didn't know we were finished. He wasn't even aware that you went on to law school. From what I could tell, you told him absolutely nothing, and after graduation, you cut all contact with him.

"You have no idea how much he wanted to know of you. How generous he was to know how you fared in college. To keep me in the country a little longer, he provided me the highest accommodations... covered my travel, food, and living expenses. I was looking for rent at the time; he got me the most luxurious penthouse of the city. After then, we met together numerous times. Not always formally for dinner; sometimes, a break at a local coffee shop, or a bakery. The occasions he invited me to his home, however, I must say was what became my undoing. His culinary skills were extraordinary. His dishes were enough to make any chef, nutritionist, connoisseur, or _dieter _melt... a blend of ethnic cuisines he learned from his childhood, he said. So delicious, so wondrously healthy and sinless. I indulged so, so much, and didn't gain a single pound.

"It was perfect... _He_ was perfect." Sakura smiles, runs her fingers through her hair. "Held an umbrella if it rained, provided a coat if it snowed. Never spoke a harmful word, never closed a door to your face, never walked ahead and left you behind, never once proven to be unreliable. Even if stressed, never once angry, bitter, nor cold, never gave me anything but warmth and sincerity. I couldn't have dreamt of anyone better if I tried.

"Thank you, Sasuke, for giving me all that. Thank you, because _you_ brought us together," she chuckles.

The lighting is dull, almost orange in hue, but Sakura is incandescent, like a school girl whose quixotic chases for love finally rewarded itself, and is now confiding in a close friend. I want nothing more than to rip the image to pieces and pour ice cold water on her dreams, wake her up to reality.

"I thought you came to talk about my brother," I say, my lips pulled in a wry grin. "I am afraid I don't recognize the person in your story."

Here, Sakura's fingers stop, and she looks at me, blinks.

Then, she laughs. "Didn't I already say it? The actor and the liar. Unfortunately, he beats your lies with his acts." Her toes dance, as she finds the carpet once more and gracefully slides off the bed. "You think I'm too deluded to realize he's a bastard despot who engages in criminal activities with the underground community, has practically cracked into the very fabric of the world wide web, and is violation with fifty different governments, including the United States? You think I am going to take charge without familiarizing with his traffic of 30 _trillion_ dollars worth of weaponry, enforcement of illegal immigration of eight _billion _people, and iron-grip control of the top financial corporations in the United States, China, Japan, U.K., and France? You think I don't realize I want to marry a deceptive, merciless, sadist despised by a ridiculous percentage of the world population, including his own father and brother?"

My jaw is locked tight, my eyes bitter cold. "Watch your mouth."

"Thank you for your concern, but I've lived six months with high level protection without my knowing. Now I know enough, and I can tell you the U.S. is currently with us. Your brother is safely out, and no one can hear our conversation regardless."

The diplomacy has ended, as Sakura shows her inner colors, a scowl on her features. "Now, it's my turn. Feel free to correct me if I'm wrong.

"I think you believe only you know everything about your brother. Since you were young, probably, when you had some suspicions about him, and started prodding your nose into old archives, hacking into the internet. It wasn't very soon before you started examining him like you would a victim of your next case.

"I think you currently find me some secretarial paper pusher who, under very lucky circumstance, will land a trophy husband because I took advantage of the situation to get close to your brother and used my wily woman skills to seduce him.

"Finally, dare I say, I think you believe I somehow, miraculously, made Itachi fall in love with me enough to want to marry me."

I narrow my eyes. "Enjoy it. You would be the first."

"No. I will be the last. The evidence is bare, but existent and enough for me to confidently say that Itachi has truly loved at least two women before me. He didn't marry them for their sake, and for yours. His time was extremely limited, and whatever little he had left, he dedicated almost all of it to you, whether you knew it or not."

For once, my expression falters.

"I've been the closest woman to Itachi for the past two years, and he loves me enough, but hardly with the same passion as to whomever gave him that necklace. He faithfully wore it every day until I proposed." Sakura sighs, buttoning her blouse.

"Sasuke, I got where I am because I am _very _good at knowing my facts. Very bluntly, he is marrying me because he has little choice. He is marrying me because of what I _know_, which is crucial and dangerous information that I uncovered and he cannot have leaking out. He is marrying me because what I can _do_, which is play for his side. And finally, he is marrying me, because what I can _give_, which is you."

She tosses her shirt to me; I numbly catch it.

"If there's anything I've understood, it's that I can't compete with you, Sasuke. I won't even try. His eyes become soft when he talks about you. He's risked imprisonment several times with the government just to see you. He's risked your hate and left you to protect you.

"For once, I do believe I've stopped falling in love with love, and actually fell in love with a man. I didn't have to make the proposition that I did; Itachi would have my accepted my proposal regardless. My marriage is a sealed deal, a logical business decision that things like love or hate don't influence. I made my proposition to make him happy, and, I thought, would make you happy as well."

Sakura strips down to her undergarments, stretches, exposes her bare back. She examines me from the mirror again.

"Of course, I apparently got the latter wrong. I never have, and I don't think I ever will, understand you, Sasuke. You defy my rationality, my understanding of psychology."

"And now you are here to make me explain myself."

"No."

Her eyes catch mine through the glass.

"Naruto wants to know _why_ the fuck you did what you did. I'm different. I don't care _why_. I am just here to tell you what an _asshole_ move you pulled.

"Consideration. Is this word not in your vocabulary?" She violently whips around. "Because I have come to realize it is the one thing Itachi... no, not just Itachi... _everyone,_ has given you nothing except, and you have given everyone nothing of."

She steps up towards me, eyes furious. "Stop feigning ignorance. You can't possibly not know how much Itachi wants to see you again, how much he wants to make amends. Nor can you possibly not understand the exact repercussions your actions have on him, on his well-being and health, how he swallows down a lot more of what you say than he lets on. You are not mad at _me_, you are mad at him; he did something that you did not approve of, and what you did was a clear punishment aimed at him.

"So Sasuke, as your friend, I am going to do you a favor. I am not going to comfort you. I am not going to give you space. I am not going to analyze the complexities of your mind, find reason and excuses to pardon you for your actions, nor comprehend what part of your psyche is in turmoil, what has gotten you in a bad mood, what unpleasantness or discomfort, anxiety or confusion, pain or hatred you might be undergoing. I won't ever understand, and it'd be annoyingly pretentious of me to try.

"Instead, I am going to say to your face what no one in your life has ever dared nor fathomed to say to you: _Grow Up_.

"'If this were a test of Solomon, you failed miserably. Your childish spite amends nothing, only splits the person who cares for you," she sneers, by the door of the bathroom. "As a law student, find the lines of justice, mercy, and the common good, and step back behind them. And when you do, maybe then _I_ can approve of _you _as the brother of my lover."

The door slams behind her.


	16. Chapter 16

Taken

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><p>"<em>I wonder, does that make me the villain of this story? Have I committed the crime of thievery? Or have I merely fought for my dreams? Is my husband the reward of perseverance, or the spoils of war? Judge me as you may. I am still unequivocally happy, and never once did it have to be at the cost of anyone else. They are the causes of their own misery."<em>

* * *

><p>The tracker is on the nightstand. By the time Sakura exits the shower, I have already exited the fire escape, four blocks away. She will not chase me.<p>

She will depart and be reunited with my brother in Germany. I will not have contact with either of them.

Naruto finds me four months later at a law firm in New York. As long as I am in the United States, he will always find me. He delivers an official paper package, of which I rip, without opening, in front of his eyes and return back to him in two.

He punches me.

I let him.

In under a month, the wedding becomes international news, publicized in the exact format and manner Itachi and Sakura want to publicize it, the unification of the dragon and phoenix in front of millions under the waving red of China. They are deified, the new rulers of the most populous country in the world. It makes the political message of the century, and sends both sides of the hemisphere shivering.

It is not unexpected, but I do wonder if my presence could have prevented this, downgraded the entire spectacle to a private event far more humble in the hills and vineyards of California. A place where the skies are not grey, but blue, the sun is not violent, but joyous, and the stars are not dreams, but visible, bright, endless.

Very soon, the rings of fire, the dance of the acrobats, the choirs of a proud nation dim down, replaced by news stations broadcasting the new transition in power. A girl barely twenty four years old as chief executive of the largest empire. They will not be able to tear her apart; Sakura has skin thicker than a bull's, and Itachi will guide her every step of the way. His will and vision will press on.

Sakura fairs better beyond anyone's expectations. The fears of political instability, economic recession is choked away; China contributes to a boom on an unprecedented scale. The United States slips to a grudging mutual territory.

At least, until the incident. And with the renewed chaos and violence, we declare our enemies.

The news shuts off.

"I'm sorry. I can't stand hearing those bigots."

I chuckle, as my bartender slams down the remote and returns with my drink.

"On me," she says, then grins at my reaction. "Only congratulatory. And as a farewell."

I bring the premium to my lips. Then, after a year and half, I finally bother to ask, "Where are you going?"

She raises an eyebrow.

"Which firm."

And that is when she understands, and bursts out into laughter. "Oh man, Sasuke. I don't know, maybe I'll tell you after I graduate..."

I blink. She is a year below me. The possibility escaped my mind; our lecture had been catered to third years. I was in my second year of the time.

"... from a law school in four years or so," she finishes, containing her chuckles. "Sasuke, I'm an undergraduate in _Anthropology_. I wasn't actually enrolled in Federal; I just followed along and did a lot of independent study on the topics to get closer to you. Stupid, isn't it?"

Yes. But she would have passed with one of the highest marks. I set down my drink. "Extraordinary women have always entered my life."

She is surprised. "Hot damn, is that a compliment?"

"Only conversational. And as a farewell."

"I know," she smiles, as she snatches my glass. "And I know better than to chase the taken."

Springs cycle. Things rebuild, regrow. When I was a child, I expected life would change.

It doesn't.

It doesn't, because I paved my path from beginning to end a long, long time ago, the construct of the objective, and I will follow routine, the spins of the wheel. It takes only my will to change the tracks, but I don't. Once you reach a certain height, the view looks the same no matter how much higher you climb.

Three years pass, before I find myself in a pictureless room, staring at the mountainsides out the window. I hear the sound of the door unlock.

"Sasuke?"

"Did you know the United States have been in alliance for nine weeks now." I toss the newspaper down on the coffee table. The sunlight scatters through a sheen of light fog. Everything is mild, serene, and as I examine my brother, plain clothes and living, my eyes land on the ring around his finger, and the scar across the back of his hand. I'm not the only one who's changed.

Itachi recovers, gives an apologetic smile.

"Would you like some tea," he offers, setting down the groceries. "I'm glad I bought an especially good kind this time. It is not every day my little brother visits from the other side of the earth."

He washes the kettle. "Visits from anyone on the outside are rare, actually. How did you find me?"

"Karin has her talents. Afterwards, I need only a hundred yuan for the cat lady to show me inside."

"Ah, you were cheated then. For her, you need only polite words... and ten yuan," he chuckles. He still lies. Anyone in the neighborhood could easily have recognized me and let me in for free. I am no secret to them; Itachi isn't ashamed, he speaks of his little brother with pride.

He places the teacup in front of me, and settles for the opposite chair. "How have you been, Sasuke?"

I slide a pack of playing cards across the table. "Fine."

With curiosity, he opens the pack, and pulls out the ace, imprinted in gold. He unfolds the card, then calmly lowers it and smiles, "This is a little more than fine, Sasuke."

"Hinata's family owns estate and several wineyards in Ramona. The steam has settled down, and you should be able to cross our borders without getting arrested by the government."

"Who else is coming?"

"Mother and Father already made acquaintance with the Hyuuga family. Naruto self-invited. Same goes for Suigetsu, Juugo, Karin... if you still remember them."

"I do."

"... and Sakura, although I would imagine she would delete every last pixel of the invitation as soon as it lands in her inbox."

"No, I believe she would be doubling over in laughter at your audacity, as irony dictates."

I don't conceal my scowl. I had wished for the former, even if my bitterness has long diminished. I hate her; she has tested out words that she knew would make me hate her, but our bond undeniably exists on both sides. Bonds formed from familiarity, history, and respect last. And after the leaked news of the Berlin ambush, I understand it would continue to last.

We have always been on the same side – Sakura didn't take an assault on her hard-earned husband well, and personally shot the offender with a .38 Colt. In the news, the bullet hit the shooter's leg; in reality, it went straight through his brain.

Itachi dares question how long I will stay; the answer is enough for him to brighten considerably, and ready to prepare dinner for two.

I grab his wrist before he can.

The haze of New Haven. The mist in the outskirts of Chengdu. A road we go back to again and again in an almost never ending cycle, wash, rinse, repeat, but it never tunnels through and we fall apart before it can.

Without looking at him, I shakily state, "Last chance." He knows I don't want a simple redo, a replay with a more acceptable ending.

Emotions of irrationality, actions of paradox. Mind of the incomprehensible, meandering, barriers upon barriers, strings upon strings of reason, of fact, of deceit all interwoven into one intricate, cohesive web. It is the way to live in court, and in life.

The best of lies always have a blend of truth, and Sakura isn't the only one to have given up trying to differentiate the two apart. I have also stopped trying. To me, the truth sounds like lies, the lies sound like truth. No one will be able to untangle me, because I have convinced myself.

The only one who can see the actual truth is my brother. He has always been able to see me as clear as water since the day I was born. And he understands that this entire confusing complexity can be reduced down to one, single, simple word.

The day is mild and serene. The room quiet and empty. Itachi's expression is gentle.

"I will support whatever you decide, Sasuke. But I cannot decide for you."

My grip tightens. I can't say anything, except, "I want to leave."

"And you want me to follow."

"Spain."

There is a silence.

Sighing, Itachi settles down next to me and stares out the window. "Ambition is strength. Ambition is defiance. Ambition is governance." He looks at me, without judgment. "Ambition is dissatisfaction. Ambition is desire. Ambition is greed. Ambition is a gamble that can cost you severely, deprive you enjoyment of something already beautiful."

I do not let go. "Ambition makes me."

A chuckle. "Then what would you have me do? Would you like me to crash your wedding, Sasuke, as you would have liked with mine?"

"Unfair to Hinata."

Itachi is pleasantly surprised, as well as amused. "But it would have been fair to Sakura."

"She's strong enough handle it."

"And Miss Hinata can be another unfortunate casualty."

"She already is." I learn Itachi keeps true to his word, and does not resist when I take his lips. There is not the slightest remonstrance, as he slides down the chaise, accepts me into his arms. After twenty six years, I am finally as convinced of my brother's stance as he is with mine, and all it took was the interjection of one lousy ex-girlfriend.

When we break away, he whispers cautiously, "Will you be fine transgressing the very laws you have been devoted to," still pretending as if he doesn't know I've only had one law and one devotion, and they were synonymous. Everything else always has, and always will be arbitrary, and easily bent to my side.

"Justice..." I say, yanking the wedding band from my brother's finger. It rolls off on the ground. "... is however I define it."

I kiss him again, and there is no more pretense.

* * *

><p>AN: Yes, the end. You are welcome to pelt me with tomatoes and hang me from twenty nooses now. And since we're done... I am free to taint you all with author bias!

Sasuke's POV? Never again. Well, unless I'm feeling masochistic enough to delve into extensive brainfuckery from an unreliable narrator with questionably-justifiable egotism and ten thousand psychological constructs, the most blatant of which being denial of the nth degree. I thought Itachi's POV would be the worst. Wrong. Itachi's mind is construed, counter-intuitive, and paradoxical, but he makes damn sense and you can expect him to be consistent. Here, I'll let you guys judge what's sincere, what's fabricated, what's utter bullshit.

I honestly didn't know the story would end like this. You see, on one side, there's reality. And on the other, there's idealism. Adulterous homosexual incest in not-so-commie-China happens to have lied somewhere in between, and I landed on it when I let everything play out naturally and realized, well, ain't Sasuke just the stubborn sore loser. Not the way _I _personally would have preferred as an end, but I'm a sardonic cynic whose idea of aesthetic beauty is in leave everything in the most deplorable of states, with a high percentage of the cast dead, so... yeah, my opinion's out.

In any case, writing this story has been enjoyable. I wanted to deconstruct the idea of a romance-drama, tear some things apart, play some things straight, remain faithful to some beloved cliches (I even killed someone... don't I make Korean dramas everywhere proud xD). I also just wanted to chuck in as many assholes as I could possibly get in, and have a fun AU to work with. Ah, if I had my way, I would have loved chucking Naruto, Sasuke, Sakura into their respected Ivies: Princeton, Yale, Harvard. It's even color-coded!

Love me, hate me, I thank everyone so much for following me through. I give special thanks to fanofthisfanfiction for... wow, reviewing every chapter and flattering me to a pile of mush.

Cheers to the New Years!


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